


Some Birds are not Meant to be Caged

by georgieP



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Spies & Secret Agents, Violence, no actual sex takes place, rated teen for violence and death, some things are implied, they are babies for the love of god, they're basically politicians but things happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgieP/pseuds/georgieP
Summary: The year is 1643 and the war that lasted nearly 80 years, called the Scorch wars by the populus, has finally come to an end. The leaders of the major powers of the continent of Flora have all gathered in the neutral country of Geum in order to decide the fate of the continent. Here at the Geum Congress, country borders are written and rewritten daily, alliances wrought and then broken with each dinner party. In this world of golden edging and ink pots, some of the most powerful and dangerous people are not the diplomats and kings who argue over drawn maps and wager human lives for plots of land, but rather their companions and spouses, who influence the fate of their world from the privacy of bedrooms and tea rooms, whisper intrigue and gossip in smoky parlours and the opera galleries. Everyone in this society holds power over someone, but there are a select few who may even have the power to destroy the fragile peace that rests so delicately on the tips of swords pointed at each other’s chests.





	1. Chapter 1

In the backstreets and shadowed alleyways of Geum, hours after the sun has sunk below the hills and the salons have filled with champagne and gossip, the animals rule. The cats and dogs and rats forage for scraps thrown out from the kitchens of kings, they swarm over the piles of rancid fat and rotten apple cores and tear at each other’s throats over a mouthful of stale loaf. Removed from this desperate way of life, the royalty of the continent of Flora gather in gold lined halls, gilded ballrooms, and around smoke covered card tables. In the backrooms of the congress, secrets are a currency, and they change hands as easily as poker chips after a night filled with too much brandy. It is here that the world can be rewritten.

 

It was on one of these such nights that Minho of Wistaria found himself among the rats in a back alley across from the Viola palace. He paused and pulled himself further into the shadows as the door opened across the courtyard from him. The soft yellow glow of a streetlamp caught the silver buttons on the greatcoat of the man who stepped out onto the street. His figure was caught in shadows before Minho could see his face, and the man gave a quick glance down the street before slipping around the side of the palace. Minho willed himself to breathe as he took a step forward and peered around the corner of his alley. He reminded himself that the man he had just seen could have been anyone. Any number of the powerful men present at the congress could have reason to be exiting the Viola palace at this time of night, especially considering who inhabited the rooms inside.

 

Isadora of Geum, Morwenna of Fargesia, and Narcissa of Ageratta. Three of the most powerful women at the congress, known for their alluring beauty, silver tongues, and for the fact that they were rumored to entertain the most powerful men at the congress. Although they were often considered to be rivals, Isadora had a habit of standing out. Whether it was the tragic past shrouded in secrets and whispered about behind closed doors, or the fact that she had supposedly captured the ears and eyes of the three most powerful men in Flora, Isadora was frequently a favourite conversation topic. But Minho didn’t care for rumors, and could care less who Isadora chose to amuse herself with. What sent shivers down his spine as he shuffled his carefully blackened boots on the cobblestones was something else entirely. He pulled the collar of his buttoned grey coat higher up against the bite of the wind and felt the crackle of the paper tucked into his glove. He didn’t need to take it out to read what it said, the words printed neatly in violet ink and scented with lavender were seared into his memory.

 

_Minho,_

_If you value the safety of your husband, you will call upon me tonight at quarter past midnight. I will trust in your sensibility._

_Isadora_

* * *

 

Minho let out a carefully controlled breath as he slipped through the door nearly hidden in overgrown ivy on the east side of the handsome brick building. Isadora’s note had contained detailed instructions on how to enter the palace and her rooms that directed Minho to take a back hall generally reserved for servants, before entering her personal quarters by the way of a side door hidden in the panels. As he climbed the stairs, careful not to let any sound betray his presence, Minho contemplated the nature of his midnight excursion. Earlier that night, a footman had pressed the note into Minho’s hand while the Wistaria delegation had been enjoying a play at the opera house. While initially surprised, Minho couldn’t help but conclude that it shouldn’t have been particularly shocking that his husband was in acquaintance with the famed Isadora.

 

The flash of pain was still fresh when Minho recalled the sight he had witnessed at the Countess of Fargesia’s dance earlier that week. Minho had stepped out into the rose garden to enjoy a much needed breath of air when he had happened to catch sight of his husband leaning against the balcony railing with Isadora on his arm. The way their heads had tilted subtly towards each others had seemed somehow delicately intimate, and Minho had felt as much like an intruder as he would have watching his husband in the meeting rooms of the congress.

 

But painful as it was, Minho had no illusions of what their marriage was. In fact, he considered it one of their strengths as a couple that they had not entered into their alliance with any idealistic expectations about married life. Minho was well aware that he had not brought any wealth nor status to Jisung’s family when they had married, and he had no fantasy that their marriage had been based on love. No, Minho knew very well that theirs was a political alliance, and that if anything, he owed his life to Jisung for marrying him when he had. Minho shivered to think of where he may have ended up had Jisung not come into his life. Minho had learned his part of the diplomatic husband well, and he knew to not make emotional demands or to intrude in matters outside their rooms in the Heucherella.

 

And yet he found himself breaking the rules. Though, the alternative was to potentially put Jisung at risk. Oh how he wished Jisung had been at the opera that night, so Minho could have asked his advice on what to do with the summons. But Jisung had left the morning before last for the capital of Myrica on official business of Randulphus and wasn’t expected back until tomorrow at earliest. For a moment, Minho had a clear image of the back of Jisung’s head as he rode away on his horse, saddlebags full to bursting with notices and drafts done up for the courtrooms of Myrica.

 

He found himself in a dimly lit passage, the only light being a single candle in a sconce on the stone wall. The smell of beeswax hung in the air, intermingled with something sharper Minho couldn’t place. It wasn’t surprising that Isadora had left such detailed instructions on how to get in, she wouldn’t have wanted her midnight visitors stumbling upon the other residents of the Viola palace. At the end of the hall he turned left and found himself faced with an oak paneled door. The instructions had said not to knock, so Minho turned the handle and pressed against the solid wood. Even before the door was fully open, the smell was overpowering. A sharp, bitter scent that had mingled so easily with the beeswax in the hall. The images registered in fragments. A single candle in its candelabra on the desk. The dying embers in the woodstove. Shadow. A woman lying on the intricately patterned throw rug, blood spilling from her neck. And the familiar view of the back of a mans head. At the sound of the door opening, the man turned, and Minho found himself looking into the haunted face of his husband.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is marriage, if not a journey of discovery?

The silence stretched between them as the shock began to register on Jisung’s face, followed rapidly by other fleeting emotions. Minho recognized fear and great sorrow flash in Jisung’s eyes before his face returned to the mask he put on when he was at the debate table. The tension became palpable, and neither of them seemed to know how to bridge the distance between them. Jisung’s mouth opened and then closed again with no words spoken. Finally, Minho broke the silence. 

 

“You were in Myrica.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“I was,” Jisung replied, “Randulphus called me back a day early.” Jisung shifted to his other leg and stood up, his feet resting at the tip of one cold, pale finger. 

 

“He said he needed me in Geum for the discussion tomorrow. I had just arrived when Isa… when I received a note instructing me to come here --” Jisung looked as though he was about to say more but at that moment the side door behind the ottoman squeaked. Both Minho and Jisung swung around to find themselves meeting the perplexed gaze of the Emperor of Ageratta. 

 

His highness looked around the room, taking in the bloodstains on the carpet, the cold body of his rumored mistress, and the pair of them. “What in the…” Chan’s eyes widened as he took in the nature of the lady’s death and he sucked in a breath, “what have you --” 

 

For the third time, A door swung open, this one much less cautious than before, and the Prime minister of Geum himself strode confidently into the room. He stopped short at the sight of the group that had gathered, confusion flashing across his face before his eyes landed on Isadora. At the sight of her, body broken and thrown haphazardly across the carpet, sorrow welled up. Anguish ripped across his brow, followed by fury. He took in the people before him and his eyes rested on Minho. Taking a step forward, he raised his fist “What did you do to her!” his voice came out as a choke, laminations caught on the tears in his throat. 

 

He advanced on Minho, grabbing the man’s collar and shoving him back towards the wall. “You killed her,” more a question than an accusation.

 

“I --” Minho didn’t get a chance to finish before Chan stepped in, taking Albrion by the arm and pulling him back. 

 

“Now look here Albrion, fighting isn’t going to answer any of our questions.”

 

“There are no questions! Isadora was murdered. That filthy agent there must have done it!” Minho flinched at the term, but his face remained impassive. From behind, Jisung noticed Minho’s shoulder’s stiffen, before relaxing back to their natural ease. Even without looking, he knew that his husband’s face had melted into what Jisung called his ‘spy face’. A look that could either give the impression that Minho knew nothing about the situation, or that he had no interest in the topic. Jisung was used to his husband’s position in the court, although he did not yet fully understand exactly what Minho’s occupation entailed. But he knew enough from the times Minho had come home late at night, sometimes a full week after he had left, with fresh injuries and hurt in his eyes. Jisung was used to Minho putting on a brave and strong face, brushing off his concerns as if the pain was nothing. He recognized too, that Minho didn’t fully trust him. And while Jisung had long since come to terms with their marriage arrangement, there were times when he dared to hope they could at least become friends. 

 

He understood that this situation was Minho’s area of expertise, but he found himself stepping forward, placing himself between Albrion and his husband and guiding Minho behind him protectively with one hand. 

 

“If you will allow me, Minho and I arrived together. The lady Isadora was already dead when we came in.” Albrion’s eyes narrowed at the young man, but Jisung’s reputation for being as honest a politician as you can get must have thrown him off.

 

“And why would the two of you be visiting the Lady at such a late hour?”

 

Minho placed his grateful hand on Jisung’s shoulder, “My husband received a note from Lady Isadora this evening at the Opera requesting that he visit her at this time. Naturally it is understandable why I wished to accompany him. You can hardly deny a man his right as a spouse.” And Albrion hardly could, his own wife having interfered with his rendezvous many times in similar fashion. 

 

“That still doesn’t explain why she would request that Sir Jisung visit her.”

 

“Unfortunately, we never got to ask her,” Jisung cast his eyes down at the maiden, her silk dress matted and beginning to harden with dried blood. 

 

Following his gaze, Chan spoke up, “That’s enough Albrion, I’ll trust that you will call your head of guard and lead the investigation? We’ve heard their statements, let’s let them get home for now. If you want more information from them you know where they’ll be.” He turned to the couple and assessed them briefly.

 

“Of course, I would highly advise you both to remain within the city until this all is resolved.” Both Minho and Jisung nodded their agreement and took their leave. Albrion’s gaze remaining on the door even after they left.

 

* * *

 

Once outside, Jisung linked his arm through Minho’s and began to lead them down the street back to the Chateau Heucherella. While they had been in the Viola palace, clouds had moved in, and rain threatened at any minute. They walked in silence for a block, before Jisung leaned his head closer to Minho’s and inquired in a low voice as to what reason Minho had for arriving at the Palace when he had.

 

“I received a letter,” Minho replied, looking straight ahead.

 

“Had the letter specified why Isadora wished to see you?” 

 

Minho hesitated, “It said only that if I valued my husbands life, I would come.” Jisung glanced over in surprised. He wanted to say something more on the subject when he felt Minho’s hand tighten on his arm. 

 

“Don’t look around, don’t speed up. We’re being followed.” He turned his face to Jisung to make it appear they were having a casual conversation. They made their way down the road for another block while Jisung strained his ears to listen for footsteps behind them. Just as Minho had said, he could make out footfalls a ways off. Honestly, Jisung had no idea how Minho had picked them up during their conversation. At the next corner Minho guided them down a side street, then another. The footsteps were still behind them. Rounding one last corner, Minho took Jisung’s hand and broke into a run, pulling him down the street and ducking into an ally before diving into an entryway. Jisung felt himself spun around and Minho’s hands pressing him against the door. He looked up in surprise just as Minho pressed their lips together for a chaste kiss. Their lips lingered as he felt Minho’s hand reach around Jisung’s back and heard the slight rattle of the doorknob. A second longer and the door swung open behind him. Minho swiftly pulling them both inside and shutting the door. 

 

Minho slipped his lock picks back into his pocket as he took a look around the shop they had just broken into. There were half a dozen clock’s scattered over the workbench in various stages of completion, all of them with intricate copper patterns woven into their design. He turned around to find Jisung staring at him. There were questions Minho longed to ask, but they couldn’t stay there long. They had to keep moving. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his concealed pistol and handed the firearm to his husband. 

 

“The safety is off, you remember how to shoot it?” Jisung nodded and wrapped his fingers around the sleek silver handle. For himself, Minho borrowed a narrow chisel from the workbench. 

 

As quietly as they could, the pair eased open the shop’s side door and stepped into a side road, this one too far from the main road to gain any light from the street lamps. As quiet as mice, they made their way through the maze of alleys in the direction that they both hoped would bring them closer to their country’s temporary residence at the  Heucherella. Left, then right, then right again. Jisung was just following Minho around another left turn when he heard a sharp bang and the crunch of metal against stone near his leg. Stifling a scream, Jisung let himself be shoved back around the corner as Minho leapt forward. Meeting the assailant head on with chisel knocking against the man’s shotgun, Minho was able to fell the man onto his back. Jisung winced at the sound of the man’s head hitting against the cobblestone. Peeking around the corner, he saw that Minho had straddled the man, chisel held to his throat and the shotgun flung across the alley. 

 

“Who are you?” Minho’s voice was low and demanding. When the man didn’t answer Minho gave him a shake and tried again, this time the underlying warning evident in his tone. The man opened his mouth, but before he could answer there was a crack of gunshot from the alley opposite their current location. Jisung heard Minho grunt and saw the man under him go limp. 

 

Minho released the man’s collar, letting him fall back onto the street. Turning, he took Jisung’s hand and took off down the alley. Their breaths coming in short pants as they hurried down one turn then the next. Finally, Minho skidded to a halt. Glancing around, he pointed at the balcony above their heads. Jisung nodded, having lived with his husband long enough to understand what he meant without Minho needing to explain. Jisung grabbed hold of Minho’s shoulders to steady himself, and stepped into Minho’s clasped hands. Once he had been hoisted onto the balcony, Jisung stripped off his coat and hung it over the side, wrapping one sleeve around his hand and bracing his feet against the rails when he felt Minho’s weight pulling on the fabric. Minho climbed over the railing gasping for breath, but they couldn’t stop to rest. Discarding his coat, Jisung followed Minho as he grabbed hold of the window frame and used it to clamour onto the angled roof of the apartment. When they had both reached the roof, they slithered higher up the shingles before lying flat. 

 

Here they waited, listening with baited breaths for the sound of footfalls in the streets below. After a minute of silence they heard two, no three men approaching the balcony they had used as an escape. Jisung’s blood froze as the footsteps paused under the their hiding place and he wracked his brain to remember if he had left his coat hanging over the edge. A few agonizing seconds later, the men carried on, shouts echoing down the street.

 

Only then did Jisung allow himself to gasp in relief, looking over at Minho for confirmation that they were safe. Minho met his eyes and inclined his head towards the east, perpendicular to where the men had headed. Quietly, they got to their feet, crouching awkwardly as they made their way from rooftop to rooftop. After 20 minutes of travelling this way Minho finally gestured to Jisung that they should head down to ground level. They lowered themselves over the side of the roof and dropped lightly onto an awning, and then made use of a tree to make their way into a dense garden.

 

Jisung looked around in surprise, recognizing the garden they now stood in as the one adjacent to the Heucherella’s kitchen. Entering through the kitchen door, the couple made their way into the entrance hall. Here they were met by Randulphus, who lead them into a side office usually occupied by diplomats writing up drafts. Now though, it was abandoned aside from the sputtering candle on the desk.

 

Once inside, Randulphus turned to face the two young men. Jisung, aware of how suspicious they must seem, stepped towards his senior diplomat and attempted to formulate a coherent explanation as to why he and his husband were scaling trees at 1am looking as though they had just escaped a revolution. Minho, however, was faster. 

 

“Isadora is dead.”

 

Jisung flinched at the bluntness. Randolphus held up a hand before Minho could continue and looked at each of them in turn.

 

“I’ve heard. But how is it that you two know as well?” They shared a look before Minho began to explain. Jisung let Minho tell the story, trusting his husband as the better lier. Minho spun a story of how he and Jisung had reunited shortly before the Opera had ended for the evening, only for Jisung to receive an urgent note from Isadora. Minho, the dutiful husband, had insisted in tagging along for the midnight assignation. By the end of the story, Randolphus almost looked as if he believed them. 

 

“And what was your impression of her death Minho?” Jisung’s head snapped up at the question, though he had expected it.

 

“It was murder of course, though it’s too early for me to say who.” Jisung didn’t miss the glance Minho sent his way. Minho narrowed his eyes, “You think it was someone from the congress?”

 

“Exactly my boy, and it may be his country but I don’t trust Albrion to run an unbiased investigation. I’d like you to look into the matter on your own Minho.” Minho nodded his assent and began to turn towards the door, reaching out his hand for Jisung to follow. 

 

“Wait,” The word was out before Jisung had really had a chance to think about it. 

 

“Wait, let me help, with the investigation I mean,” Oh dear lord, what was he saying? This was his husbands world and he had no reason to get involved in it. He new full well he was stepping over the boundary of their fragile alliance but he was desperate. No matter what, he needed to know the truth behind Isadora’s death. He felt two pairs of calculating eyes on him, judging his words carefully. After a minute, Randolphus sighed. 

 

“If you wish, I have no right to keep a married couple from sharing thoughts.” And with that, he left the two to themselves.

 

They ascended the stairs in silence, Jisung holding the door to their chamber open for Minho. In their room they dressed for bed in an awkward silence, neither one of them having ever been good at finding a connection between them. When they had settled into bed Minho finally turned to meet Jisung’s eyes. 

 

“Why were you in Isadora’s chambers?” His voice was controlled, but Jisung thought he detected some emotion underneath. 

 

“I received a letter asking me to present myself at that time, that much of our story is true,” Minho seemed to be searching for something in jisung’s eyes.

 

“The letter didn’t say why... and I never got the chance to ask her,” Jisung continued before Minho could ask. He felt his throat constrict as the reality began to sink in and had to take a controlled breath to steady himself. Minho looked away, apparently having found his answer.

 

“Why do you wish to help in the investigation?” His voice was smaller this time, resigned almost. Jisung paused a moment before answering, recalling the beautiful woman who only two days ago, he had shared a polonaise with at the Countess Morwenna’s dinner party.

 

“Isadora was a wonderful and esteemed woman, and the way she died was cruel and unjust. I do not think I will be able to sleep peacefully until I am assured that her killer is brought to justice.” He glanced over at Minho in time to see the flash of hurt in his eyes, before it was replaced by a mask of indifference. Jisung’s heart sunk, and he realized how it must look to Minho. Even he couldn’t deny that he was the most likely suspect in the case, and though it pained him to know that his husband thought him a murderer, he had nothing to say. He was well aware their marriage had not been founded on affection, or even familiarity and trust. And as he settled down for sleep, it occurred to him that what he thought he had heard in Minho’s voice earlier was disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Chapter 2 is a bit longer than I expected but I'm only a day or two late. Bi-weekly updates seems like the best way for me to go for now, although once the term ends I may have enough time to update weekly. No promises though...
> 
> Come yell at me at jeonginsbracessavedmylife.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 1643 and the war that lasted nearly 80 years, called the Scorch wars by the populus, has finally come to an end. The leaders of the major powers of the continent of Flora have all gathered in the neutral country of Geum in order to decide the fate of the continent. Here at the Geum Congress, country borders are written and rewritten daily, alliances wrought and then broken with each dinner party. In this world of golden edging and ink pots, some of the most powerful and dangerous people are not the diplomats and kings who argue over drawn maps and wager human lives for plots of land, but rather their companions and spouses, who influence the fate of their world from the privacy of bedrooms and tea rooms, whisper intrigue and gossip in smoky parlours and the opera galleries. Everyone in this society holds power over someone, but there are a select few who may even have the power to destroy the fragile peace that rests so delicately on the tips of swords pointed at each other’s chests.

Minho lingered on the stairway, dreading the interaction that would inevitably happen over breakfast. He allowed himself a minute extra of admiring the pattern of the carpet before pushing at the oak doors and entering the dining hall where the diplomats and their families dined together. Upon entering, Minho’s attention was drawn to a table opposite of the buffet where pastries and fruit had been laid out. After helping himself to a plate of bread and jam, he made his way over to his friend’s table. A part of him wanted nothing more than to take his breakfast back to his room, but his logical side reminded him that those actions would only add to the suspicion around him. So ignoring the small voice screaming at him to run, Minho took a seat beside Jisung’s cousin Jeongin and smiled in greeting. Jeongin, as usual, spared him a brief smile before returning to his book. From across the table, Seungmin rose his eyebrows at Minho’s arrival.

 

“So, where did you disappear to last night? I thought Hyunjin and I were meant to walk you home but when we were looking to leave people were saying you had already left.” Minho cringed, but had already anticipated this question when he had been dressing earlier.

 

“Jisung returned earlier than expected and came looking for me. I’m so sorry I meant to let the two of you know but I wasn’t able to find you and it was getting late…” He cast his eyes down in order to appear sheepish and Seungmin hummed, satisfied with the answer. When Minho looked up again he met gazes with Casimir, a young diplomat who had lately taken to sticking close with Jisung and Hyunjin. Casimir’s gaze held his, appraisingly, before he turned his attention back to what he and Seungmin had been discussing when Minho had arrived.

 

Minho had nearly finished his meal when the doors to the hall flew open and Hyunjin made his way over to their table. His eyes were wide and he was slightly out of breath as he sat down beside Seungmin, reaching over to squeeze his husband’s hand in greeting. Minho felt a small pang watching the comfortable interaction, the ease and trust that was evident in their relationship.

 

“What is it Hyunjin? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Tommy’s eyes growing at the thought of some secret Hyunjin knew.

 

“Isadora of Geum was murdered in her rooms last night.”  Seungmin and Casimir gasped, and even Jeongin looked up in surprise. Minho alone seemed unaffected by the foul news. Noticing this, Casimir gave him an odd look.

 

“You seem unsurprised Minho.”

 

“Yes…” Minho began, Jisung and he had decided on their story last night but he was hesitant to share so much so early. “Just as we were leaving last night, Jisung received a summons from Isadora. The note implied it was urgent so we stopped by on our way home. Unfortunately by the time we arrived it was done.” Seungmin let out another gasp.

 

“Then, you two were the ones who found her?” The alarm was visible on the man’s delicate face. “Oh that must have been dreadful!” Minho gave a weak smile, assuring his friend that he would recover from the shock with time. Seungmin however, was not convinced, and continued to lament about how awful it must have been for Minho. Hyunjin gazed at his husband, concern evident in both his eyes and the way he rested his hand protectively on Seungmin’s shoulder. Minho observed all of this with an amount of longing, knowing full well that he could never achieve what the two of them had. In Minho’s mind, Hyunjin and Seungmin were the perfect couple. Hyunjin was a devoted husband, never once having an affair, which was rare in a city filled with royalty and diplomats living countries apart from their families. Seungmin too, was the perfect husband, knowing exactly his role in society and how to make the best of his life. And while Minho was sure he and Jisung could never have the intimacy that their friends had, he hoped that one day they could play their parts well enough to believe in them.

 

* * *

 

Turning the corner onto a cobbled street, Jisung thought back to that morning when he had told Minho he had a meeting at the congress building and would skip breakfast. They may not have the level of companionship that most couples did, but Jisung really hated lying to Minho. Crossing the street, He arrived in front of Cafe Noir, a small restaurant popular with artists and writers who had flocked to the city after the war ended. Each hoping to catch the attention of potential sponsors from among the rich and powerful. It’s chaos and noise made it the perfect location for meeting’s one might not want noticed. Here he approached a young woman sitting alone at one of the tables towards the back of the cafe’s interior. He took the seat across from her and silently handed her his handkerchief, inviting her to dry her teary eyes. Doing so, the woman looked up, giving Jisung a watery smile.

 

“Zilla… I’m so sorry, this must be terrible for you...” Jisung’s condolences trailed off. In all honesty, he was still trying to process the events of the previous night himself. Zilla gave a pitiful laugh.

 

“I should be the one comforting you Jisung, I was only Isadora’s maid, while you…” She gave a sigh, wiping her eyes once more before looking up.

 

“After you left last night, they searched her chambers, Albion ensured they didn’t leave anything untouched. I did manage to sneak these out before they noticed though.” Under the table, Zilla slipped a package into Jisung’s hands.

 

“Luckily she kept all of your letters in one place.” Jisung gave her a appreciative smile and tucked the package into his coat. The transaction complete, Jisung started to stand, but Zilla’s next comment stopped him.

 

“It’s odd though, even though they searched all the rooms, there were things missing.”

 

Jisung paused, “you mean they missed something in their search?”

 

Zilla shook her head, “no, I mean that something was removed from her rooms beforehand. The box that Isadora kept her most private correspondences in is gone.” Jisung studied the girl closely, he was perhaps closer to Isadora than anyone else, yet he had never heard of this box’s existence.

 

“Were the contents important? Perhaps Isadora anticipated something might happen and moved them earlier?” But even as he said it Jisung knew that couldn't be true. If the contents were what he suspected they were, Isadora never would have let them out of reach for her to bargain with. Zilla seemed to agree.

 

“She never let the box leave her rooms. I wasn’t supposed to know where it was hidden, but there’s only so much you can hide from your maid… but in all the years I served Isadora, I never learnt what she kept in the box.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So?” Felix asked, making eye contact with Minho through the mirror. Minho raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

 

“Are the rumors true? Were you and Jisung really the ones who discovered her body?” Minho sighed and nodded, word traveled too fast for privacy in this city. Felix’s eyes widened and he waved away the tailor. Coattails and cuffs forgotten as he turned to face his friend.

 

The two were currently in a private fitting room having suits made up for the masquerade the next evening. But Minho suspected they would be here awhile, if Felix’s passion for gossip was any indication. The younger boy had come to Geum as the guest of Lord Changbin of Fargesia, Felix’s family having close ties with the Seo’s for many years. Felix himself, while being born to Itea nobility, had spent much of his childhood in Fargesia, where his elder sister had married Changbin’s cousin. Said sister was currently residing in Geum after divorcing her second husband the previous year. The lady was a formidable rival of the late Isadora, and it was no secret they hadn’t been friends before Isadora’s untimely demise.

 

“You know, as awful as it sounds, I’m not terribly surprised by the events,” Felix was fiddling with his starched yellow collar in the mirror, taking in every angle of his Apollo themed costume.

 

“Isadora was powerful, but she wasn’t exactly careful. She had many enemies and it was only a matter of time before one of them tried something” Minho followed Felix’s train of thought, understanding that Felix was most likely worried about his sister. Morwenna played a similar game as Isadora.

 

“Why, even the other women of the congress were her rivals. Take my sister for example, the last time I saw Isadora was at my Morwenna’s and the two were… well they were hardly on speaking terms.”

Minho’s eyebrows rose, “they were quarreling?” Felix hesitated, glancing at the curtain that led into the main room before going back to studying his lapels. Minho realized the implications of what he had said, that if Morwenna was known to have been fighting with Isadora just before the laters murder, it gave cause for Morwenna to be a suspect. Minho crossed to where Felix stood and placed a hand on his arm.

 

“I’m sure it was about something trivial,” He reasoned, “most likely it had to do with an upcoming dinner party or Opera.” Felix gave Minho a thankful smile, but sighed as he sat down. Arranging his coattails and frock, Felix studied his closest friend in Geum, taking in the shadows under Minho’s eyes and the lines on his forehead.

 

“Jisung is a good man.” Minho looked at Felix in surprise, wondering where the sudden admiration had come from.

 

“Of course it’s only natural that you suspect something, what with how close Jisung and Isadora were, but I am certain that there was nothing beyond friendship between the two.” Minho was taken back by the turn the conversation had took. Indeed he had entertained the thought before, but he had concluded that it really wasn’t his place to feel wronged by who Jisung chose to spend time with.

 

“Whatever makes you think that?”

 

“It wasn’t unusual for Isadora to be seeing multiple men at one time, but she would never be caught in an affair with two men from the same company at once. And so she couldn’t be having an affair with Jisung because just last week at Narcissa’s ball, I saw her sneaking into the back library with Hyunjin.”

 

* * *

 

Jisung knocked briefly at the office door, not waiting for an answer before he pushed it open and stormed into the room. At his desk, Changbin looked up and gestured towards a leather backed chair across from himself. Ignoring the offer, Jisung stood in front of his long time acquaintance.

 

“Was Isadora still your agent?” Changbin met Jisung’s eyes, taking in the desperation in them.

 

“My father was the one who introduced Isadora to the world of secrets when she was a young girl, you know that much, but she was never his agent. Isadora served only herself, and would deliver to the highest bidder, even if it meant betraying her family. She didn’t have friends.”

 

“She knew secrets about you, didn’t she?” Jisung continued, not letting Changbin escape from the conversation so easily. “It likely would have been in your best interest if she died.” His voice broke on the last word and he fought to keep his face impassive.

“Isadora had information on nearly everyone in this city,” Changbin challenged, “And I know for a fact she held secrets neither of us would want known. Was it not in your best interest as well, that these secrets be taken to the grave with her?”

 

* * *

 

The streets were quiet at this time of day, the sun having fallen behind the buildings and most people having retired to dress for supper. The shadows made it easy for going unnoticed from place to place. Despite this, Minho’s thoughts were elsewhere, his mind still reeling at the news Felix had shared. Minho found it harder to imagine Hyunjin in a relationship with Isadora than it was to believe Jisung was unfaithful. Hyunjin loved Seungmin more than anything. Minho had been certain that if anything in Geum was free from suspicion it had been their marriage, but now he couldn’t be sure.

 

With his head caught up in these thoughts, Minho failed to notice the footsteps until they were right behind him. Hearing a slight rustle, he stopped, but before he could turn he felt the hard metal of a gun barrel press into his lower back.

 

“Don’t move, don’t speak.” A voice said, the words flavoured by an accent Minho couldn’t place. “Tomorrow night at the masquerade, be at the Triton fountain at 1am. Bring the papers.” And before he could respond, the gun barrel was gone. Minho whirled around but the man had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! You may have noticed but I changed the summary for the fic to add more background information on the world the characters live in. I made it the description for this chapter as well just in case. We're past the intro now so get ready for more action!
> 
> Yell at me at jeonginsbracessavedmylife.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”  
> ― George Orwell, 1984

“He what!?” Jisung’s eyes met Minho’s in the mirror, wide with shock and concern. Rising from where he perched on the edge of the bed, Jisung took a step towards the dressing table where Minho sat fixing his hair. He made a quick mental scan of his husband, checking for any injuries. 

 

“I’m fine Jisung, really. More concerning is this matter with the papers. What do you think they could be?” Jisung hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal to Minho. The conflict must have been evident on his face because Minho gave him a curious look. When Jisung met his eyes, Minho looked down at his hands, the hurt of distrust lingering on his face. Jisung made up his mind.

 

“I ran into Zilla, Isadora’s maid, outside a cafe this morning. She mentioned to me that Albion had searched Isadora’s rooms after we left last night, but that there was a box missing from the suite. Apparently Isadora used to keep her most secret correspondances in this box and Zilla is sure it’s disappeared.”

 

Minho’s brow furrowed in thought, “And you’re proposing that whoever accosted me today is after these papers… But then the question is why they think I have them.” Jisung shrugged, as much at a loss as his husband. Again, Minho peered at his Jisung from under his bangs. He knew what he would say next would hurt the man but if his husband was to help him in this investigation, there could be no more secrets.

 

“Jisung… there’s something else.”

 

* * *

 

When the carriage pulled up in front of the Heucherella, Jisung’s head was still reeling. He had imagined dozens of horrible scenarios, but never in a million years would he have suspected Hyunjin of having an affair. Watching as his friend helped Seungmin into the carriage, his ghostly black suit contrasting starkly with the pale greens and delicate pink flowers of Seungmin’s Persephone attire, Jisung could only see love on either of their faces. Somehow knowing that Hyunjin had betrayed that felt like a personal insult to Jisung himself. 

 

Reaching down, Jisung helped his own husband into the carriage. Their costumes were based on the myth of Nut and Geb, the gods of sky and earth from a southern country, and while Jisung wasn’t entirely familiar with the story, he found he kept sneaking glances at Minho in his midnight blue tuxedo. It was patterned with baby pearls to reflect the constellations, with a silver mask in the shape of a half moon completing the look. In his own earthy toned suit, Jisung felt dull in comparison. 

 

Across from them, Jeongin squirmed in his seat, the feathers of his owl mask tickling his nose. 

 

Jisung snickered, “Maybe Athena wasn’t the best idea for your costume Jeongin. You might not be able to last the night at this rate.” Jeongin glared at his cousin from behind the down feathers and paper mache. They were interrupted by Randulphus and his wife taking their seats and with a jerk, the carriage began to move. 

 

As the carriage jumped across the uneven streets of Geum, Jisung went over what he and Minho had discussed earlier. It was decided that Minho would go through with the meeting, although not having any papers to offer, Jisung couldn’t help but feel it was a dangerous gamble. Minho hoped that they could learn something about who was looking for the papers, or at least buy themselves some time to discover why the papers were so desirable.

 

By the time the carriage pulled up to the elaborate estate that made up the main building of Albion’s residence, Jisung was ready to forget the whole matter and just head home. He was beginning to understand more of Minho’s profession and Jisung wasn’t entirely sure he liked it. The thought of his husband taking on challenges like this daily made him shiver, and he had to remind himself that it wasn’t his place to worry, however worried he might be. He brushed the matter aside for now and helped Minho out of the carriage; the meeting wasn’t until 1am, and he had other matters to attend to before he could have fun.

 

They had barely stepped into the hall when Felix rushed over from the drinks table, a solemn Changbin in tow. 

“Minho! Terrible news! Both Justin and Zeren have come down with fever suddenly.” With the golden mask in the shape of the sun framed by his yellow locks, Felix looked exactly like a sun god. An angry sun god. Though Minho wasn’t entirely sure why the two delegates from the Geum council falling ill would cause his friend so much anxiety. Seeing Minho’s confusion, Felix paused in his rant to explain.

 

“They were two of my riders for the Medieval jousting,” Felix pouted, “where am I supposed to find two accomplished riders to learn the parts before the weekend? There’s only one more rehearsal left!” Ah, that explained things. Felix had been placed in charge of organizing a Medieval jousting display for the entertainment of the congress, and he had completely adopted the project as his child. The boy had even roped Minho, well known to rarely participate in such events, into playing the part of one of the knight’s pairs. 

 

Turning to his friend, Minho assured Felix that two riders were bound to turn up, after all, they were in the presence of the finest soldiers and congressmen in all the continent. Surely there must be at least two more capable riders within the building. Eventually, the conversation diverged, and before either of them realized the time, the dancing had begun. 

 

As usual, Minho and Jisung danced the opening waltz as partners, but were soon separated when Jisung left to find refreshments. As the first chords of a polonaise rung out, Minho found himself at the hand of a lady with a mask adorned with blood red poppies. Giving her a bleak smile, Minho made small talk with her until the dance had ended, then escaped into a side room. 

 

Seeing an open bench, Minho gratefully sank into the velvet cushions. He had barely settled down when he spotted Jeongin making his way over. The younger boy squeezed onto the sofa beside Minho and passed his cousin-in-law a delicate crystal goblet. Minho gratefully drained the glass before setting it on a side table and turning to address the younger. Before he could say anything though, he was cut off by Jeongin’s hand on his thigh.

 

“There’s a man watching you from the east door. He’s been there for a while.” Discretely, Minho cast his gaze over the array of dancers in front of him, casually making his way over to the doorway. He found the man leaning against the cherry wood doorframe. The man’s face was hidden behind a black and gold mask, but he would recognize that arrogant walk anywhere. His smile sent a chill down to toes of Minho’s boots.

 

“Minho, what a pleasant surprise.” He crossed the room in four easy strides and brought Minho’s hand to his lips in a gracious bow. “I swear I would know you anywhere, mask or not.”

 

Minho smiled into the cold eyes of the man who could bring his fragile life tumbling down around him. “Sir Ulric-- No, Colonel now right? My congratulations on your promotion. I didn’t realize you were in Geum.” 

 

“I arrived only yesterday. Would you care for a dance.” Knowing full well he couldn’t refuse, Minho bid farewell to Jeongin and allowed Colonel Ulric to lead him onto the dance floor. Ulric took in Minho’s frame, his eyes much too probing for Minho’s comfort.

 

“You look very at home as the diplomat’s husband.” Fear squeezed Minho’s chest as he met Ulric’s gaze. He had always known the past would catch up with him. But the fear had become a constant; a naggin presence at the back of his mind. And with the events of the past few days, discovery had been the last thing on Minho’s mind. 

 

“I am very fortunate in my life,” Minho replied. He made little efforts to keep up conversation as they danced, instead allowing Ulric to dazzle him with accounts of his recent adventures. Minho was a talented enough dancer to be able to follow the steps of the moderate Minuet without thinking, so he instead let his gaze wander around his fellow masqueraders. He wondered if the man he would be meeting later that night was also on the dance floor. He was in the middle of examining the mask of a nearby dancer when he inadvertently met eyes with a large man dancing with a young girl. The man’s rainbow suit was a stark contrast to Ulric’s simple black jacket adorned with golden timepieces, but the arrogant way they carried themselves was identical. 

 

As the music died down, Minho bowed to Ulric and was about to take his leave when he found himself at the hand of yet another unwanted brute. Count Darius bowed over Minho’s hand and begged a dance, his rainbow outfit looking outlandish with his one-eyed mask. Again, Minho realized he had no choice but to comply.

 

As Darius pulled Minho back onto the dance floor, he made comments on weather and Minho’s outfit. Eventually, the conversation made its way to where Minho knew it would.

 

“I’m sure you’ve been bombarded with questions on the Lady Isadora all night.” Darius watched Minho for his reaction. 

 

Minho met his gaze with as open and unaffected a look as he could manage. “It seems to be all anyone is talking about tonight. And just two days ago I was sure nothing could overtake the debate on Bellis.” 

 

Darius spun him out before pulling him in to face each other again. “I’m afraid little more remains to be said on that matter. Our troops have surrendered Carlina to Itea, to whom it rightfully belongs, and Bellis will soon be ours.” His tone implied that this could very well be by possession, if not negotiation. 

 

“I saw you at the Opera the other night, but I don’t recall seeing your husband.” Darius held their hands together above their heads before guiding Minho into another turn.

 

“Jisung arrived late in the evening. He returned to Geum earlier than expected and came to find me. We left fairly early.”

 

“And went to call on Isadora together.” Minho kept his hand steady where it rested in Darius’ grip.

 

“I didn’t want him to go alone.” Darius’ smile beamed at Minho, but the warmth fell short of his eyes. The dance was ending, and Darius bowed one last time over Minho’s hand before stepping away.

 

“I can’t tell if you are a clever husband, or a foolish one.” 

 

As The man turned to go, Minho was now certain that he had been sent by Emperor Chan of Ageratta. Albion wasn’t the only one searching for Isadora’s murderer, and he and Jisung were still very much under suspicion.

 

* * *

 

 

Two dances into the night, Jisung cornered Hyunjin beside the refreshment table. Using the excuse of politics he led his friend into a nearby library, bracing himself for the awkward confrontation. After the door had been securely shut and Jisung was sure they were alone, he rounded on his friend.

 

“What is this about Jisung? Surely nothing was urgent enough that it couldn’t wait until the afternoon meeting tomorrow?” If Hyunjin suspected anything, his eyes didn’t show it.

 

“Felix saw you with Isadora at Narcissa’s ball last week.” Jisung wasn’t good at this. For all the internationally renowned diplomat that he was, he was horrible at confrontation. He didn’t have Minho’s ability to string together pretty words that convinced his targets to spill their secrets, and he certainly didn’t have his subtelity. 

 

At Jisung’s words, Hyunjin’s face had turned ashen white. He turned to face the embers still glowing in the abandoned hearth. 

 

With trembling breath he addressed his friend, “How long have you known?”

 

“Felix told Minho only yesterday.”

 

Now Hyunjin spun back around, his face a picture of terror. “God… does Seungmin know?”

 

“No,” Jisung replied, “neither of us have said anything.” he studied Hyunjin in the dim light, trying to see the man who betrayed his own husband. Wherever he looked he could not shake off the image of the man he knew, the man he trusted. 

 

“But Hyunjin you… Seungmin…”

 

“Oh god, I can’t imagine what you think of me right now, but please know that I would never be unfaithful to Seungmin.” Hyunjin’s eyes pleaded with Jisung, making him falter in his accusations. 

 

“But you-- you and Isadora?”

 

Hyunjin sighed, “I was buying a painting from her. Jisung, I know what this looks like but please you have to believe I would never do something like that to Seungmin.” This time is was Jisung to gape at his friend.

 

“Wait, a painting? Isadora was selling paintings?” Hyunjin fiddled with the clock piece on the mantel. 

 

“Yes, Isadora is-- was selling art. Don’t ask me where she got the pieces from but as far as I know they weren’t obtained legally.”

 

Jisung’s eyebrow rose, “She was dealing illegal art?”

 

“Yes… two months ago I mentioned wanting a certain piece for Seungmin. There was a painting he was quite fond of as a child, but it disappeared from the owner’s estate during the Scorch wars.” Hyunjin glanced over at his friend, his eyes pleading for Jisung to believe him. “A few days later Isadora cornered me at the Opera. She asked me what I would be willing to do for the painting. I knew it was illegal Jisung, that’s why I kept it a secret. I didn’t want Seungmin to know where the painting was from but now… well I guess now it doesn’t matter.”

 

While still suspicious, Jisung had to admit Hyunjin’s story was plausible. Still though, Jisung had had no idea that Isadora had been doing this behind his back. He had thought he knew everything about the Lady, and yet she had never failed to surprise him. It had been one of the many qualities in her he had found endearing. ‘ _ What more didn’t I know about you Isa,’ _ he lamented.

 

“Jisung please, I know Randulphus asked you and Minho to investigate her murder but please, if it’s possible can you please not mention my name. I’m still aiming for parlement next term and having this scandal in the open would cost me greatly. Please Jisung please believe I didn’t mean any harm.”

 

Jisung met his friend’s eyes, so full of fear and trust. “I believe you Hyunjin. I’ve known you since we were boys and I would never have believed that you could do something to hurt Seungmin. I’ll have to tell Minho but I promise I will try to make sure your name never gets shared in the investigation. And if I can help it, I’ll make sure Seungmin doesn’t find out.” Hyunjin let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Thank you. You’re a true friend Jisung”

 

“Just... please don’t give us any more reasons to suspect you.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Leaving through the side entrance of the villa, Minho made his way down the shadowed gravel path until he reaches his destination. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Jisung crawling into the bushes on the far side of the fountain. Minho circled the courtyard twice, ensuring that the smaller man couldn’t be seen from any angle. Jisung was here because of Minho and if he got hurt because of him… well, Minho didn’t even want to think about that.

 

As he completed his second lap around the fountain, placing Jisung in front and to his left, Minho heard the distant crunch of boots on gravel. The footsteps came from the path to his right, directly opposite of the estate. The man must have hidden deeper in the gardens earlier that night. Straining to see the figure in the starlight, Minho could just make out the gilded edging of the man’s plain black mask. 

 

Keeping a safe distance between them, the man faced Minho and looked around appraisingly. 

 

“Well, at least you’re punctual. Where are the papers?”

 

“Surely you couldn’t expect me to bring such a valuable item to a preliminary meeting. You haven’t even mentioned payment yet.” Minho’s voice was cold and emotionless, impossible to read.

 

“Payment? Of course, of course. Name your price, I can get you whatever you want in paper bills.” Minho’s surprise was barely evident on his face. Just who wanted these papers? And why? Minho could hardly imagine what secrets Isadora must have held when she was alive. Deciding he had nothing left but to gamble, he was about to ask as much of black-clad man himself. 

 

At first he had thought a breeze had picked up, but the trees above were still. His shoulders tensed, his ears listening carefully for the sound. Praying he had imagined it. But the masked man had heard the rustle too. Glaring at Minho, he backed away. 

 

“I told you to come alone,” he snarled, reaching into his coat to pull something out. Minho saw the tip of a pistol and held his breath. His own hand on the firearm tucked into his waistband.

 

Just as the man took a step forward, the bushes to Minho’s right exploded. A man clad head to toe in grey feathers erupted from the underbrush and launched himself at the masked assailant. It was a mad scene, feathers and leaves flying before the man in black managed to detangle himself from the feathered arms and escaped around the side of the fountain. Minho watched him disappear into the shadows of the garden before rounding on the new visitor.

 

Reaching down, Minho helped the man to his feet, a gun pressed firmly into his side. 

 

“Wait! I promise I mean you no harm. Now that I know you are willing to sell the papers I would like to negotiate with you. I will pay you twice what the other man offered!” The words left his mouth in one breath, betraying the man’s desperation. Seeing the look of apprehension in Minho’s eyes, he reached up and removed his hawk mask. 

 

“Sir Edric?” What in the world was the brother of Ageratta’s Emperor consort doing spying on secret dealings at 1am? Woojin, Emperor consort to Chan of Ageratta, had insisted on his brother accompanying the royal court at the congress, but Edric had made a name for himself by staunchly avoiding the drama and intrigue that permeated Geum’s streets.

 

“I followed you here when you left the party. You and your husband were the ones who discovered the body right? And besides, with how close your husband was to Isadora, he’s the most likely person to know where the papers went.”

 

“Wait,” Minho cut in, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m afraid you are under the understandable impression that I am in possession of the papers that went missing from Isadora’s room the night of her murder. However, what you just witnessed was my attempts to bluff to gain information. My husband was listening from the bushes.” 

 

Minho called Jisung out to join the pair, and together they relayed their story to Edric. Finishing his story, Minho turned back to the man, looking him up and down.

 

“With your presence, I guess I can assume that whatever is in those papers has something to do with Consort Woojin?” Edric blushed, an argument already at his lips.

 

“Before you deny it, I would like to point out that we can work together in this,” Minho reasoned, “I won’t ask you to reveal what secrets of Consort Woojin Isadora had in her possession. You want the papers back, and we want to find Isadora’s killer. Based on the events of tonight, I think we can assume that if we find whoever has the papers, we also find who killed Isadora.” Out of the corner of his eye, Minho saw Jisung flinch and his gaze softened. He couldn’t imagine how hard the past few days had been on his husband. Being dragged by his crazy spouse into an outlandish scheme of hiding in bushes couldn’t have helped either. He couldn’t help but think that Jisung deserved better than the life Minho brought with him.

 

Facing the couple, Edric passed a look between them, before sighing. “I agree, there’s no way I can do this without help. I couldn’t catch everything the man said to you, but I thought I recognized his accent. I’ll keep an ear out around the congress and I’ll be in touch if I learn anything… I’m placing my trust in you Minho, I can only hope you don’t betray it.” 

 

Edric reached out to give Minho and Jisung each a firm handshake, the strain in his knuckles letting them glimpse how desperate the man was. With a final nod, Edric donned his mask and disappeared around the corner of a hedge.

 

* * *

Jisung and Minho had only returned to the party two minutes earlier when they were accosted by Narcissa. The haughty woman was a marvelous sight. Clad head to toe in silver embroidered with tiny black arrows, both her eyes obscured with delicate white lace. However, she was far from the fragile maiden in Hod’s myth. The lady fairly pounced on the couple as they entered the cards room, pulling them into a ring of party guests before turning to face the crowd.

 

“And here is Han Jisung! Tell us Jisung, you were closer to Isadora than many, did she ever mention her family to you?”

 

Recovering from his initial shock, jisung tried to make his face as unreadable as possible. “I'm afraid not. Isadora didn't like to talk about her childhood.”

 

“I thought the same thing myself!” Narcissa exclaimed, “but then I got curious. A family friend of mine is from the same part of the country as Isadora’s family so I asked him about her, and you know what he said? Why he was positively baffled when I mentioned her! Apparently the Luna family only ever had one daughter. However, as far as he remembers, that daughter died when she was seven!” 

 

* * *

The carriage was silent as it rolled through the early morning hours, moonlight casting shadows across Felix’s face, masks long ago discarded. He glanced over at where Changbin sat across from him. The man seemed deep in thought, his brows furrowed in concentration.

 

“Did you know?” Changbin looked up, a silent question poised on his lips.

 

“About Isadora. Did you know she was lying about her past?” 

 

“There are many people at court who aren’t exactly who they claim to be.” Changbin answered, choosing his words carefully.

 

“But still, to take the name of a deceased princess? Don’t you think that’s too much?”

 

Changbin thought on the matter, taking his time before answering. “On the contrary Felix, by assuming the identity of Princess Isadora of the house of Luna, she was able to have an actual history. Though that’s probably why she spent so much time abroad: fewer people to question her.”

 

Felix thought about this for a while, considering the reason behind Narcissa’s announcement that night. Why did it matter so much to the duchess that Isadora be defamed? He looked over to find his sister watching him, her own face a mirror of his confusion.

 

“Albion seems to have left you alone tonight sister,” Felix commented, changing the subject to one more manageable for him at the time. Morwenna sighed in response, turning to face her little brother properly.

 

“Yes, it’s nice to have a break from his affections.”

 

“Albion seems to switch quite frequently between yourself, Isadora, and Narcissa. Though with the recent events I can’t say it’s surprising he’s put all his attentions on Isadora.” The comment was made casually, but Felix could detect a slight bite behind Changbin’s words. Though why the other man should care Felix couldn’t say.

 

“Is that why you quarreled with Isadora? Because of her relationship with Albion?” Morwenna blushed, but before she could defend herself Changbin answered in her stead.

 

“No, that sort of matter has never bothered your sister before. More likely it had to do with Isadora’s trade in art. Am I right my Lady?” Morwenna’s pink cheeks deepened to a scarlett hue, and she looked more flustered than Felix had ever seen her. He looked between the two of them, suddenly feeling an outsider in the conversation.

 

Sighing, Morwenna gave her answer. “You are correct. Felix dear, when you walked in on Isadora and me that day we had been negotiating the terms of a delicate trade. You see, I had recently discovered that Isadora was in possession of something very dear to our family.” Felix’s eyes widened, beginning to see where the conversation was going.

 

“I don’t know how she came to have it, but Isadora possessed the Flora casket.” A gasp escaped Felix’s lips. The Flora casket had belonged to his family for generations, only to go missing from their estate during a siege at the height of the Scorch wars. 

 

“I offered her any price she could name, but for some reason she refused to part with it. Naturally I became frustrated with her, and that’s when you interrupted us. I’m sorry Felix, I don’t know what you must have thought of me.” Looking genuinely sorry, Morwenna placed a hand on her brother’s. Felix smiled, of course he would trust his sister on this matter. She was all he had left after all.

 

* * *

 

“I hear you and Jisung were captured by Felix tonight. Has he roped you into participating in his Jousting musicale?” Seungmin addressed his husband, but after a moment passed and Hyunjin was still lost in thought, Jisung answered.

 

“Yes, he said he needed two riders to replace the two from Geum who fell ill suddenly. We were only too glad to help.” Hyunjin nodded distractedly, leaning over to open the carriage door as it pulled up to the Heucherella.

 

Jisung watched as Hyunjin helped Seungmin down from the carriage, their hands lingering together even after the later was safely on the ground. He thought of his friend’s marriage, he thought too, of his own relationship. Turning, he saw a flash of pain in Minho’s eyes as the man observed Seungmin. He realized then how sad he would feel if Minho ever showed intimacy with another man. Like a fire doused in ice water.

 

Jisung opened his mouth, wanting to assure Minho that he was faithful, that despite what everyone thought, Jisung and Isadora had never held feelings for each other. Not like that. But he stopped himself. Better that Minho believe that he had been in an affair with Isadora than to know the truth. He couldn’t bear to hurt Minho more than he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I have returned from the dead!! I'm sorry I missed updating last week ToT I was in the middle of finals (and then this family thing happened and now I'm moving at the end of the month so that was all stressful) but I finally found time to finish the chapter! All 4479 words of it oh my god. I hope everything is well with all of you? For those who just finished finals or are still writing them, good luck!! I believe in you guys!!
> 
> Scream at me @jeonginsbracessavedmylife.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned."  
> – Ulysses by James Joyce

Once again, Minho found himself facing his friend across the breakfast table. Where not three days ago aimless chatter and pleasantries flowed freely between them, now silence hung heavy with the weight of secrets. Forks clattered against plates and teeth; a symphony of silenced shame. At last, as the last bites of quiche lay untouched on their plates, Seungmin spoke.

“I know.”

Minho’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes raising to meet Seungmin’s own cold gaze. Nothing more was said between them, but in that moment, Minho understood everything Seungmin wanted to say. Pain. Betrayal. Hurt. And something else, something darker, was evident in the younger man’s eyes.

“When?” The question hung between them, the despair in Minho’s voice bridging the impossible chasm between the two men. A hand reaching out in the night.

“Nearly a month ago. It was at a dinner, I don't remember which one. I had gone out for some air and I… I heard Hyunjin's voice from behind a hedge. And then _her’s--_ " The malice dripped from Seungmin's lips like poison, staining the boy's breath black. And Minho suddenly felt with absolute certainty, how a broken heart can motivate someone so savagely. He shivered, painfully aware that with this development Seungmin could well be Isadora’s murderer.

 

* * *

 

Once again, Jisung found himself at Café Noir. This time it was he who sat in a corner table, his hands nervously tapping his coffee mug as he awaited his rendezvous. He heard the bell above the door signal someone's arrival and looked up to see Zilla entering from late morning sun. She scanned the café briefly before her eyes met his, and she made her way over to his table. She had barely sat down when Jisung spoke, "Where was Isadora getting the art from."

He left no room for the lady to protest, and there was nothing she could do to avoid the question. Zilla stared resolutely at her lap, avoiding the hurt in the man's eyes. She had known it would hurt Jisung to know that his beloved Isadora, whom he trusted above everyone, had hidden things from him. She had hoped he would never have to find out. Unfortunately, death had a way of digging up old secrets.

"Isadora had many suitors," Zilla began, eyes still fixed on her greying lace gloves. "For a time, she was able to support herself through their gifts and attentions. But Isadora did not have a modest lifestyle, and in the past few years money has run short. So she began selling art. Most of them come from suitors, they give them as gifts or offerings."

Jisung leaned forward, trying to read the girl's face. "Was there anyone in particular, anyone who supplied her with art more than others?" Zilla hesitated, and Jisung knew he'd guessed correctly.

"There was one man… Galenus. I don't know much about him, but as far as I could tell their relationship was never more than business. But he supplied her with many of the more costly pieces she sold."

Satisfied, Jisung got the address of the man in question from Zilla and made his way back onto the streets. Luckily, Galenus lived only 20 minutes away on horseback, and Jisung was able to find the villa quite easily with Zilla's directions. Before the sun was high overhead, Jisung was knocking on the door. It swung open to reveal a footman who, upon taking Jisung's name, led him into a tea room on the second floor of the expansive apartment. Here, Jisung was told to wait.

While he waited for his host to arrive, Jisung examined the room, taking in the array of curiosities that lined the shelves. The man was obviously an avid collector and, from the looks of it, an ardent traveler. Amid the ceramics and wall hangings, Jisung also noted a collection of war decorations and military medals. He hazarded a guess that Galenus was an ex-soldier. It was no secret that soldiers during the scorch wars had often looted villages and castles alike. Art from all over the continent of Flora had gone missing overnight, stolen by the soldiers who were brought in to protect the people.

The door behind Jisung swung open, and he turned to face who he assumed to be galenus. As he had expected, the man carried himself with the air of a general. He looked the picture of youth in its prime. Rising, Jisung offered his hand to the man and introduced himself. He began to comment on the beauty of the treasures in the room but Galenus waved away his compliments.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a personal visit from the Wistaria congress?" Jisung got the impression that this was not the time for pleasantries and subtlety. The man now seated across from Jisung was a soldier, and the best way to deal with a soldier was to be straightforward.

"You were supplying art to a lady by the name of Isadora. I want to know where these pieces came from, and anything else of relevance you can tell me about her clients." Galenus' eyes arrowed, but he didn't seem particularly concerned about being found out.

"I have been providing Isadora with art, that much is true. They were pieces I collected during the wars, plunders taken from enemy castles. With the war over, people have begun looking for their family heirlooms and it became too dangerous for me to keep the pieces. The lady offered to help me by selling them, for a fee of course. It was convenient for me so I accepted the partnership. As to your second question however, I'm afraid I don't know. Isadora dealt exclusively with the clients on her own." The man studied his nails, as if bored of the topic.

"You're telling me that you trusted a near stranger to sell priceless pieces of artwork, and didn't care enough to even gather details on who they were being sold to?" Galenus met Jisung's eyes from across the room, and the look in them told Jisung that the man knew more than he was telling.

"I am aware of the fact that I was hardly the only person supplying Isadora with art. She was a dangerous woman, with dangerous contacts. I concluded that the less I knew about her life, the safer I was."

 

* * *

 

"Alright everyone, that was good! Let's take a break! Lolita would you be able to help the junior girls with their part in the second act?"

Watching his friend lead the rehearsal, Minho couldn't help but think that this was where Felix belonged. For all the younger man protested and complained about being in charge, when he was performing either here in a production, or on the dance floor at a ball, Felix shone. From across the room, Minho caught Changbin's intense stare and smirked. Changbin could claim their relationship was platonic, but it didn't take an agent of Minho's calibre to see the way the Lord looked at the boy. Changbin looked at Felix as though he was the sun. As he found himself doing more often lately, Minho couldn't help but compare their relationship to his own. If he was being kind to himself, which was rarely the case, Minho could tell himself that Jisung looked at him in a similar way. In reality, he avoided thinking about it at all, lest the truth betray his hidden desire.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind, Minho whispered an excuse to Felix and turned to where he had seen Morwenna slip through a side door. He quickly crossed the field, meeting Jisung's eyes briefly from where the man stood by his horse. Jisung had arrived right before rehearsal started, and there hadn't been time for them to relay their newfound discoveries to each other. And Minho knew Jisung well enough to be able to tell his husband had learned something of importance. Turning, he missed the way Jisung's gaze lingered on him as he walked away.

The rehearsals for the Jousting musicale were held in the riding club’s indoor facility, and as such, there were dozens of small refreshment rooms and dressing rooms hidden in corners and down side hallways. Following Morwenna into one of these rooms, Minho took a seat across from the woman. Gratefully accepting a glass she filled with wine from a decanter on the side board. Filling her own glass, Morwenna faced Minho with a look of fierce determination. She was a smart lady, Minho observed. There was no doubt she knew exactly why Minho was here.

"Felix is a smart child, and a loyal brother, but in many ways he is too innocent for this world." Morwenna's eyes softened at the thought of her younger brother, and Minho could see the love she held for him.

"I'm sure he meant no harm in discussing his concerns with you, but I can't help but worry about what you think of me. Felix walked in on Isadora and I arguing, but he left before I was able to explain." Minho put his glass down and examined the lady in front of him. He decided that the best way to approach her was through sympathy, provided of course, that Minho could play his part well enough to trick Morwenna's sharp eyes.

"I know he didn't Morwenna, and I am sure there was a very simple explanation for your argument. But if I am to understand the events surrounding Isadora's death, I need you to work with me." The ice in Morwenna's eyes melted, just a bit, and Minho knew he had her. He sat back as the lady explained to him about the casket, it's disappearance, and significance to her family. But he could tell there was more she wasn't telling him.

"Have you checked to see if the casket was in her rooms after she was murdered?"

Morwenna shook her head, "Nothing. No one I've asked had even seen it in her quarters that day."

"It seems more than one thing went missing from Isadora's quarters that night. In addition to your casket, there was a collection of papers that are missing. Private correspondences of Isadora." It was a gamble, Minho knew, but he was willing to wager that his hunch was correct. Sure enough, at the mention of the papers, Morwenna flinched. She hid it well, but it is difficult to keep untrained hands still under pressure.

"Isadora visited your rooms that day for more than just the casket didn’t she?" Minho accused, "There are powerful people after those papers. If I am right, they contained secrets, not about Isadora, but about other members of the congress. Was she blackmailing you Countess?" It was a question they both knew the answer to.

 

“My husband and I are already looking for the papers. I want to help you Morwenna, but I will need your help.”

 

* * *

 

Felix lingers in Changbin’s office. The shorter man had returned from the afternoon meeting only minutes before and had already settled behind his desk to continue his work. Felix stood in front of him, dragging his fingers along the golden wood.

 

“How was the meeting?” Changbin’s eyes rose from the paper he was examining, meeting Felix’s over a stack of volumes.

 

“Still no decision on the Bellis issue. For all the wonderful emperor Chan is, he’s terribly stubborn.” pushing the papers aside, Changbin gestured for Felix to sit in the deep leather chair across from him.

 

“How do you feel rehearsals went? As far as I could tell Jisung and Hyunjin seemed to learn their parts fairly quickly.”

 

“I’ll admit I was impressed too, you would hardly tell that they had only one day of rehearsals. And of course, Minho has been an amazing help with everything.” Changbin hummed his agreement, studying the golden haired boy from over his clasped hands.

 

“You and Minho have become quite close.” Felix’s face lit up at the thought of his friend, beaming at Changbin before opening his mouth to exclaim how clever and kind Minho is. Changbin listened to the boy prattle on, admiring the glow on Felix’s face and the sparkle in his eyes. He had to be careful. He had a reputation as a ruthless politician, and although he didn’t care one bit how people viewed him for his relationship with Felix, he was determined to at least maintain a semblance of the aura he was so well known for.

 

“And what of his husband, Jisung, what is your opinion on him?” Jisung was an enigma to Changbin. He had known the boy since they were both children, but he had never truly understood how to read the man past his cheery exterior. Unlike Felix, who’s positive predisposition seemed as clear as water to Changbin, Jisung was like a thick fog illuminated from within. Here, Felix frowned, his nose wrinkling in that adorable way it does when he’s thinking, and Changbin couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto his lips.

 

“Jisung confuses me. His relationship with Isadora has wounded Minho, no matter how much Minho denies it. I can see the pain in Minho’s eyes when he watches his husband. And yet…” Standing up from the chair, Felix began to pace the floor in front of Changbin’s desk. Keenly aware of the man’s eyes on him as he turned back.

 

“And yet I would swear by the way that Jisung looks at Minho that he cares deeply for his husband. So then why would he do something that hurt him so much? Surely he can see how pained Minho is?”

 

Changbin pressed his lips into a thin line, “Motives are rarely simple Dear.”

 

Felix huffed, spinning to fall back into the seat again. “I made some last minute adjustments and paired them together for the musicale. I can only hope that it will help. I told Minho about Hyunjin’s affair with Isadora as well, to calm his fears about Jisung.”

 

Changbin frowned, “I thought that the Wistaria diplomat in an affair with Isadora was that young one, Cas- whatever his name is.”

 

“No, it was definitely Hyunjin that I saw sneaking out with Isadora, perhaps you were mistaken? I cannot believe that Isadora would have an affair with two men from the same delegation at the same time.” Changbin smiled, reaching a hand out to gently stroke the younger man’s cheek.

 

“You are still quite innocent, even after your years at court… it’s refreshing.” His palm cupped the boy’s chin with the care of one holding a bird new from the nest. His fingertips caressing the freckles that danced across the boy’s nose.

 

* * *

 

Jisung returned from the afternoon meeting to find Minho dressed for the opera and waiting in their rooms. They had finally had a chance to relay to each other what they had learned over the day after the rehearsal, but Jisung had had to leave for the meeting before they could properly decide on what to do next.

 

One look at Minho, and Jisung knew that something had happened. There was a glint of excitement in his husband’s eyes that made Jisung shiver with anticipation; a dangerous gleam that Jisung found undeniably attractive. As he approached, Minho held out a nondescript piece of cardstock decorated with a series of unintelligible letters. After Jisung had examined the coded note, Minho handed him a paper with the deciphered message.

 

_The anteroom off the petit salon. 10pm. Bring the papers._

_Come alone and payment will be given._

 

The note was unsigned.

 

“It was delivered by a footman while we were out. It was easy enough to decode, but I’m afraid your cousin is far too curious for his own good. I’ll admit though, that he solved the cipher in half the time it would have taken myself to.”

 

“Jeongin?”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him out of the case as much as I can. But he’s smart and has a sharp eye Jisung, he can be helpful if we give him a chance.” Jisung nodded, knowing how much truth Minho’s words held. Growing up, Jisung had always thought of Jeongin as a younger brother to him. As much as he wanted to protect his cousin, he had to realize that the boy was nearly an adult now, and could be trusted to make decisions for himself. He had to respect Jeongin’s ability to make his own choices.

 

Acceding, Jisung turned his attention back to the more pressing matter at hand. As it turns out, there wasn’t much to discuss. Minho had already forged papers to offer in place of the ones they had not yet located, and it was agreed that Jisung would alert Edric at the Opera when they arrive.

 

With the matter settled, Jisung and Minho reviewed the rest of the information they had received that day. They both agreed that it was best to refrain from telling Seungmin the truth about Hyunjin’s relationship with Isadora. Jisung had promised, after all, to keep Hyunjin’s illegal dealings a secret, even from his own husband. When Jisung confirmed that Isadora had been smuggling art given to her by Galenus, he grew quiet. The gravity of being kept in the dark beginning to dawn on him. Minho watched his husband shrink in on himself and his heart ached for the other man.

 

“Did you know?” His voice was quiet, but it carried in the open room. When Jisung shook his head, it was almost imperceptible.

 

“It seems there were many things I did not know about Isadora.” He wondered what other secrets surrounded her ghost.

 

* * *

 

 

                                            **Character sheet**                                                                                           **Map of Flora**

            

 

Photo credit to Riza ([Tumblr](https://not-majestic-bluenicorn.tumblr.com/), [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neko_ryn))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First off I'd like to thank everyone for reading this up till now! It's been really fun to write and I have a lot planned for the future of this fic! I would also like to thank the absolutely amazing Riza who brought my sketches to life in creating the character sheet and map I have at the bottom of this chapter! Hopefully these will help make the character's relationships more clear for everyone. Aside from being an amazing artist, Riza is an Incredible writer and I highly recommend checking out her AO3. (Polluted Thoughts is one of my all time favourite fics)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't be afraid of your fears. They're not there to scare you. They're there to let you know that something is worth it.”   
> ― C. JoyBell C.

By the time the Wistaria delegation arrived at the Opera house that night, the trays held high by waiters had grown light and guests had already begun to find their seats. As it was, they had been forced to leave without Lord Randulphus, their chief sending word of his early retirement via young Casimir, who had been held up in a meeting with the man in question right up until their carriage was to leave for the evening.

 

“But what matter could have been so pressing as to delay you so late after common congress hours?” Hyunjin wondered as they exited the carriage, a footman ready to remove the party’s coats for safe keeping. Casimir gave an easy laugh as he waved off the footmen who reached for his jacket.

 

“Not business as much as evaluation. As I am still very new to my position, Lord Randulphus wished to discuss ways I could improve myself to better carry out my assignment.” He flashed a smile at his seniors. Jisung and Hyunjin laughed with him, recalling their own days as junior delegates. Minho however, was standing behind Casimir, and saw well how he gripped his hat and his hands trembled ever so slightly.

 

_ ‘Poor boy’  _ Minho thought. He hoped Randulphus hadn’t been too harsh in his criticism. Casimir had only joined the Wistaria group a month earlier, and Minho knew well how difficult it was to adjust to life in a new country.

 

They entered into the main hall just as the chimes rang out. 15 minutes to curtain. Giving Minho’s hand a squeeze, Jisung parted from their group and moved off in search of Edric. Just as they had discussed earlier, Jisung located their new ally and briefed him on the plans for the evening. After which, he intended to return immediately to Minho’s side. It was ridiculous, he told himself, they way he felt when Minho was out of his sight these past few days. It wasn’t like anything between them had changed, Minho had always been an agent, had always been involved in dangerous work, and Jisung had always just been his boring politician husband. Minho’s ticket out of a more dangerous alternative. And yet somehow, Jisung had always been able to ignore that side of Minho until now. Until he had watched his husband take down men in a back alley while being shot at; until he had watched helpless from a bush as a man pulled a gun on Minho. 

 

“Good evening Sir Jisung, I haven’t seen you since Perovskia.” Interrupting his revere, Colonel Ulric ambled over to Jisung from where he had been leaning against a window. Caught off guard, Jisung offered him a slightly awkward greeting in return. Having been stationed together in Perovskia over a year ago, Jisung knew the man, however they had never been close. 

 

“I hear you are a Colonel now, you have my congratulations. Of course with your services in Perovskia, I’m sure there was no question of your deservance.”

 

“Thank you Jisung, and I hear tell I have something to congratulate you for as well? Minho appears to have made a fine husband for you.” Jisung looked sharply at the Colonel.

 

“I was not aware you were acquainted with my husband Ulric.”

 

“We met while I was in Perovskia, before you arrived I believe. Though I cannot claim to know him well, we have spoken on more than one occasion. In fact, I bumped into him on the dance floor only last night at the masquerade, didn’t he mention it?” Well this was news to Jisung, and he expressed as much to Ulric. He was about to ask more when the bell chimed again, 5 minutes to curtain. The two parted, and made their way to their respective balconies. 

 

Although he knew it was a trivial matter, Jisung felt slighted for some reason. Minho could talk to who he wished, and he didn’t have any obligation to report his private life to Jisung. So why then, did he feel so on edge? Lost in thought, Jisung waved distractedly at Minho as he slipped through the curtain into the Wistaria delegation’s private balcony. 

 

Passing through the doorway himself, Minho was letting the curtain slip closed behind him when a hand grabbed at his wrist. He froze, his initial instinct being to try to free himself, but before he could act a voice spoke from behind the curtain.

 

“You’re looking in the wrong place”

 

“Who-”

 

“Shh. There isn’t time. It’s not who killed Isadora that’s important, it’s what she was about to discover.” The voice spoke Faragese, the language spoken in many of the western countries including Geum, but it was accented. The voice sounded familiar as well, but Minho couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before.

 

“What do you mean?” He asked, as the hand had yet to let go of him.

 

“Why did Princess Isadora go to the Briar Knight Tavern the day she died?”

 

And like a ghost, the hand was gone. Leaving Minho standing stunned at the back of the balcony. Shaking himself out of his trance, he quietly slipped into his seat beside his husband. Just as the opening music was swelling into a crescendo, he heard the curtain behind him slide open.

 

* * *

 

Reaching behind the heavy velvet curtain that lined the outside of the petit salon, Minho gave his husband’s hand a squeeze. It was 9:58pm and the second act was about to begin, leaving the main hall and dozen or so salon’s void of people. Even the waiters had retired to the back rooms for their break. Assuring himself once again that Jisung would be safe watching from his hiding spot, Minho pulled away from the wall. He glanced briefly in the direction of the hidden servent’s door near the back entrance to the antechamber, behind which Edric was waiting. Nodding once, Minho threw open the door to the antechamber. Two steps into the dark room. He let the door shut behind him.

 

“Turn around and aim your pistol at the ground. Don’t move. I have a gun pointed at your head.”

 

The voice from the gardens, but different from the one who had spoken to him from behind the curtain. Calmly, Minho followed the man’s orders. Better to play along and see where the situation goes. 

 

“You brought the payment?” He asks, playing his part. He heard a rustle behind him and the sound of something falling on a table to his left. And then light footsteps moving away. A match strike, and then a soft glow illuminated the room. Cautiously, Minho turned his head to his left. There is a stack of banknotes placed on the low side table, a considerable amount by the thickness of the package.

 

“Place the papers beside the payment. Then leave the room through the same door.” 

 

Taking out the bundle of counterfeit papers he had prepared, Minho held them out, allowing the masked man to see what he was holding. Then slowly, he reached out to place them on the table. 

 

Footsteps outside. Minho spun around to see the door crash open, a second masked man casting a new shadow across the dim room. Minho’s breath catches in his throat. The man holds a pistol in one hand, while the other wraps around Jisung, a knife to his throat. Jisung’s eyes found Minho’s in the candlelight, fear and apology flashing in them. 

 

“Drop your weapons. Give me those papers and I will release your husband.” Another faceless voice. It is hard to tell if this one is the same as earlier. Although, it is hard for him to focus on anything other than Jisung. Jisung. His husband. With a knife to his neck. 

 

Without hesitation, Minho droped his gun, holding out the papers and bending down to place them in front of the intruder. They hadn’t touched the ground when the first masked man shoots. Jisung cried out as red blooms out of his shoulder and the man holding him lets go, lunging at the papers where Minho dropped them. 

 

Minho catches Jisung when he falls, pulling the man to the side of the room and pressing his hand onto the wound. Jisung’s face is tight with the pain, but he offers Minho a reassuring smile.

 

He’s distracted by a loud crash, and looks up to see both the masked men grappling over the papers. Pushing the intruder over a table, the first masked man gains the upper hand. He wrenches the papers out of the other’s grasp and sprints for the window. There is an explosion of glass as the man throws himself out. The second man leaps after him, and Minho can hear the sounds of them landing hard on the stone street below them. 

 

Left in the aftermath of the assault, Minho crouched amid broken glass and scattered banknotes, arms wrapped protectively around his husband. The two of them sat stunned for a moment before their trance was broken by Edric. Having heard the commotion from his hiding place outside, the man had rushed over and now helped his friends up from their spot on the floor. 

 

While they answered Edric’s questions, Minho sat Jisung in a chair by the fireplace and eased off the man’s jacket as gently as he could. The shirt underneath was soaked through from a mixture of sweat and blood, and Jisung winced as Minho gingerly pulled the sticky sleeve away from the wound. Minho let out a breath of relief. While it had bled a lot, the bullet had only grazed the arm, and the cut itself wasn’t too deep. Squeezing Jisung’s hand in apology, Minho cleaned the wound with whisky from a decanter left on the side table and with practiced movements bound the wound with a clean handkerchief. All the while, Jisung sat in silence, whimpering only when the alcohol hit his raw flesh. When he at last spoke, he kept his eyes on his hands.

 

“I’m sorry,” His voice was so small it broke Minho’s heart. When Jisung lifted his head, he could see guilt and shame behind the tears.

 

“Jisung... It’s not your fault. We weren’t expecting anyone else to get involved. I should have realized this could have happened I- I should have done more to keep you safe.” He turned away so Jisung couldn’t see the fear in his eyes. Minho had let down his guard and Jisung had paid for it, next time they might not be as lucky. It was a possibility Minho could not allow to happen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In her private balcony overlooking the orchestra pit, stage left, Morwenna watched as the soprano brought her Aria to an end. As the last note died on the lady’s lips, she heard the curtain open behind her. She knew who it was without turning. Albion took the seat beside her, staring resolutely down at the stage. He reached out to her before pulling his hand back a second later.

 

“I know that I messed up Morwenna. And I cannot expect you to forgive me for what I’ve done. But please if anything, trust me,” his eyes searched the woman’s face, seeking a sign. He could not give up hope that there existed even a sliver of the flame that had once burned so strongly between them. 

 

“Trust,” He repeated, “that I will get back those papers. I will do everything in my power to help you Morwenna. And I promise on my life that I will find a way to return both the papers and your most precious jewel back to you.”

 

When she didn’t answer him, Albion took his leave. Slipping through the curtains with a silence that left so much unsaid.

 

* * *

 

Edric slipped through the doorway that led to the Ageratta party’s private corner of the Opera house. Here in the antechamber used by Emperor Chan to host guests, there was only the muffled sounds of a soprano coming from behind the curtain. A stark contrast to the noise of what had just transpired not two hallways down. Signaling the guard who stood at attention in front of the balcony entrance, Edric whispered something into the man’s ear. The man slipped through the curtain, and while he waited Edric poured himself a glass of champagne from the side board. God knows he deserved it after tonight. He turned as the guard returned, the Emperor consort entering with him.

 

“Edric? What is it?” Looking at his brother in his evening attire, Woojin looked every bit the royal he was. Miniscule sapphires sparkled from the embroidery on his suit. Taking the younger man’s hands, Edric led Woojin over to a nearby couch and related as briefly as he could what had happened in the petit salon. Woojin’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips.

 

“Don’t worry Woojin, I promise I’ll get them back for you.”

 

“Please Edric… I’m thankful for your help, but are you sure it’s wise to trust a Wistaria delegate we hardly know?” Edric understood what he meant. Sure he had spoken to Jisung plenty of times in meetings over the past few months, but the two had rarely spoken to each other outside the congress room. That night at the fountain had been the first time they had ever had so much as a conversation together. And yet… somehow, Edric found himself inclined to trust the young couple.

 

“I understand Woojin, but we can’t do this alone. At some point, you have to trust someone.”

 

* * *

 

Jisung waited in the hallway while his husband snuck back into the Wistaria balcony to retrieve their coats. In darkness, Minho made his way over to where their friends sat. He whispered to Hyunjin that he and jisung were retiring early for the night, on the grounds that Jisung was suffering from a headache. 

 

“At this rate it’ll just be me at the meeting tomorrow,” Hyunjin said with a mischievous smile. “Casimir went home before the second act started with the same complaint. Perhaps it was something in the food at dinner.”

 

Gathering up their outdoor wear and bidding goodnight to their friends, Minho returned to where his husband sat on a bench outside. Jisung’s face was pale from blood loss and shiny from a thin layer of sweat that covered his brow. Minho could read the pain Jisung was trying so hard to hide in the lines on his brow and the dullness in his eyes. He wrapped an arm tightly around his husband’s waist and helped him up. Pushing open the large main doors and leading them out into the frigid evening air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry this is a few days late. I accidentally double booked my courses this term and have been doing twice the course load for the past 2 weeks and making up most of my class material on my own time trying to keep up TT_TT thankfully the extra course was only a 4 day workshop (but 8 hours a day of telemetry...) so today was my last day!! Anyways hope you enjoy this update! The plot thickens!! 
> 
> Scream at me on tumblr @jeonginsbracessavedmylife


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth."   
> ~ Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne

It was 2pm the next day when the couple finally left their rooms for the day. With Jisung’s injury the previous day, they had both allowed themselves to sleep in, relishing in the morning sun and the joy of a rare day off. Hyunjin having sent word earlier that Jisung could rest that day to recover from his “headache”. After a few extra hours of sleep and still more time waking up slowly, Minho decided it was time for them to get moving. 

 

The two had discussed the mysterious message Minho had received the previous evening as they lay in the soft white sheets. Nothing more than thin fabric separating their hands. In Jisung’s mind, it might as well have been prison cell bars. Just when he thought Minho was opening up to him, something happened and the cold metal would slam back down. Only yesterday, Jisung had preened under Minho’s frequent small touches. Their hands brushing; his husband’s arm around his waist. For a moment of sick pleasure, Jisung had been thrilled by the look of raw and unguarded love and fear in Minho’s eyes when Jisung had been shot. But then as if winter had come early and froze the ocean solid, there was nothing. A cold viel pulled over Minho’s eyes that locked in any emotion he may have felt.

 

Since last evening, the man had been distant, avoiding Jisung’s eye and keeping his gaze down as he gently bandaged the gunshot wound. Jisung marvelled at how practiced Minho’s hands were. He barely felt anything as the older man dressed the wound and tied off the gauze at the base of his armpit. 

 

“Jisung,” Jisung looked down to see the top of his husband’s head, the other man still not looking at him.

 

“Would you by chance have a painting or a sketch of Isadora?” Jisung stiffened. It was an odd thing to ask, and he weighed the risk of lying to Minho. How much harm could one lie do when compared to the implication of the truth.

 

“It would be much easier,” Minho explained, “to search for Isadora at the tavern if we had some sort of picture to show the staff.” Ah, that made sense. Slowly, Jisung relaxed.

 

“I do.” This time it was Minho who’s muscles stiffened, though if it wasn’t for their close proximity Jisung never would have been able to tell.

 

“She gave me a miniature years ago.” He reasoned, although perhaps he was only making it look worse. Nevertheless, what was done was done, and when Minho turned to dispose of the soiled bandages, his body language told Jisung the conversation was over.

 

* * *

 

It was a fairly long walk to the Briar Knight Tavern, and by the time they had located the humble establishment, it was nearing mid afternoon. They had long since left the area of town frequented by the members of the congress, and Jisung suddenly felt very out of place in his tailored suit and polished shoes. With an arm around Jisung’s waist, Minho led them both into the entryway of the rough stone building. The sign above the door was decorated by a faded painting of briar roses and a crude caricature of what Jisung took to be a knight. Inside, the establishment was respectfully busy given the time of day. A barmaid pushed past them, her tray heavy with mugs of ale, and Minho drew Jisung closer to his side. Despite his distraction, Jisung registered Minho’s hand hovering protectively above his wounded shoulder.

 

The two took seats at a table located as near to the center of the establishment as they could get. In this way it would allow them a better location to both observe the staff, and listen in on the other patron’s conversations. They had been seated for only a few minutes when the barmaid from before approached them. Minho ordered drinks for them both before hesitating, glancing at Jisung. Taking his cue, Jisung cleared his throat. The barmaids attention now on him, Jisung contorted his face into what he hoped was desperate concern and addressed the lady. 

 

“If I may… well you see, we didn’t come here by chance today you see,” Jisung cast his eyes down, as though searching for how to phrase his thoughts.

 

“What my husband means to say, kind lady, is that we came here in search of his sister.” Minho took over, and he reached out to take Jisung’s hand. The barmaid looked between the two of them, her blue eyes sharp and cold.

 

“Ladies don’t often come here,” the look in her eye explaining that she would not consider her regular female clients as ‘ladies’.

 

“Yes but you see,” Jisung cut in, “Millie ran away!” He brought his free hand up to dab his handkerchief at his eyes. Minho sighed, turning an apologetic face to the barmaid.

 

“You have to explain clearly dear. My sister-in-law ran off his a rat- a man whom was not deserving of her. We have been searching for her for some time without luck and-”

 

“You didn’t  _ try _ hard enough,” Jisung nearly wailed, pulling away from Minho’s to scrub at his face with both hands now.

 

“My dear I’ve told you before, I want to see her safely home as much as you do. A scandal isn’t good for business.”

 

“You and your  _ wretched  _ business.” Jisung threw his handkerchief on the table. Minho looked back at the barmaid with a flush of embarrassment, the lady having been watching the exchange with slight amusement.

 

“As I was saying, we have had no luck discovering her whereabouts until yesterday, when someone reported seeing Millie come out of this tavern earlier this week.” Here Minho produced the miniature they had taken from Jisung’s chest earlier. Squinting, the lady examined the small piece of painted metal. 

 

“Sorry,she doesn’t look familiar.”

 

“Are you sure? She could have been wearing a disguise, a wig perhaps.” Jisung looked at the lady with pleading eyes.

 

“I would have remembered a lady like that, wig or not.” Minho fixed a look at the lady, suspicious of her dismissal of the question. 

 

“Regardless, would you be willing to let us question the other staff who was working that day, if only for my husband’s piece of mind.” The barmaid assented to this and left to fetch their drinks. Over the next half an hour, they met with a number of the staff of the tavern, a group of rugged men and women dressed in threadbare aprons and stained clothing. Each person answered with the same statement: they didn’t remember seeing anyone of Isadora’s description. 

 

The two lingered for nearly an hour after, hoping that one of the staff would approach them on their own time. Or perhaps one of the regulars had noticed their search. Eventually, however, they decided they would get nothing more out of the establishment and took their leave, mugs still half full on their table. 

 

The two left the tavern disheartened. And as Jisung linked his arm through Minho’s he could sense his husbands confusion. Why would the voice send them on a wild goose chase?The pair turned the corner and began to make their way down the street when they heard a quiet voice from a nearby alley. Peeking into the shadows, Jisung recognized the young servant boy from the Briar Knight. Glancing around, the two stepped into the side street and followed the boy a little ways into the darkness.

 

After a minute, the boy stopped and turned to face the two older men. He shuffled his feet and examined his hands, looking around to make sure they’re alone. 

 

“You were looking for a lady right? The lady with the red hair.” Jisung nodded encouragingly.

 

“Is she in trouble?” Minho’s face softened and he bent down to look into the young boy’s eyes. He couldn’t have been more than seven years old, even after taking into account how skinny he was.

 

“We’re afraid she is, that’s why we’re trying so hard to find her. Do you know something about her?” The boy looked around again and seemed to make up his mind.

 

“She came a few days ago, like you said. She didn’t order anything, but she talked to Margaret, thats the lady who served you and owns the place. She asked her about the men who meet in the little room upstairs.” 

 

Minho frowned, “And who are these men who meet upstairs?”

 

“I don't know sir. I’ve hardly seen them myself, only when I’ve been sent upstairs with a pitcher of drink for them. But my sister waits on them sometimes and she says they’re foreign. They’ve been coming for nearly a month now. ” Well this was a significant development. 

 

“Have you heard what language they speak?” The boy nodded, but when Minho asked him to identify the language he was unable to. Between the two of them, the couple spoke half a dozen languages, but none of them matched what the boy remembered. 

 

The boy recounted how, after Isadora had visited, a man had come to speak with Margaret. Margaret had then told the staff that they were forbidden from mentioning to anyone about the men upstairs. At this point, they decided to let the boy get back to work before he got into trouble, but as he was turning away Minho called out to him. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a few coins and pressing them into the boy’s hand.

 

“Sir I didn’t ask for this.” The boy protested, pride and hunger battling behind his brows. Again, Minho kneeled in front of him, reaching out to grasp the boy firmly by his shoulders.

 

“What’s your name boy?”

 

“Lillian, sir”

 

“Well Lillian, I know you didn’t ask for anything, but you’ve done us a great service, and at considerable risk to yourself. That deserves compensation. If you and your sister ever find yourself in danger go to Cafe Noir and ask for Jeanette. Tell her Minho sent you. She’ll be able to help you.” 

 

* * *

Turning the corner and walking away from the alley, the two discussed what they had just learned. They’d gone barely a block when again they hear a sound from behind them. This time it’s a frantic clanking and the shrill scream of metal on wood. Turning, Jisung just had time to register the shape of a carriage barreling towards them when Minho slammed into his side, throwing Jisung into a nearby doorway. Diving into the alcove himself, Minho stumbled onto his husband.

 

Jisung’s back hits the cold stones just as the horse dragged the out of control vehicle past them. The carriage door swung wildly, smacking against a lamp post as it rushed past. Jisung is dazed as he attempts to sit up. There is a weight holding him down, and Jisung looks down to see his husband. Knocked unconscious by the blow he received in the chaos, Minho now lay crumpled on Jisung’s lap.

 

Suddenly, the sound of the horse stampeding down the cobblestones was a distant echo, and the rush of blood in Jisung’s ears drowned out the world around them. Minho’s face, pale in the shade, was heartbreakingly still, and when Jisung shifted the man in his arms, he limbs were heavy and slack. His head rolled to one side, and when Jisung stabilized it with his hand, he felt a sticky wetness coat his fingers. His hand came away slick with red. 

 

His breath caught in his throat. Red. Red on pale skin. Torn clothing. Isadora. No, Jisung shook his head. Minho. He hugged his husband tight to him, images of the people he loved imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Each one as painful as the last. 

 

He was near tears, holding Minho’s limp body against his. Fighting down his panic, Jisung forced himself to take a breath, calming himself enough to assess Minho’s injury. The blood was coming from a small abrasion on the back of his head. He must have been hit by the corner of the carriage. He felt Minho’s soft breath against his hand as it hovered above the man’s face. A small comfort. Minho began to stir, his eyelids fluttering before squinting against the dim light. Jisung pushed Minho back down when the man tried to sit up, groaning in pain and looking around in confusion. He had a dazed look on his face. 

 

“Careful,” Jisung kept his voice quiet, “You were unconscious for a minute. We don’t know how bad the damage is.” But Minho waved off his concerns. 

 

Using his husband to help himself sit up, Minho prodded the back of his head. Already the blood was beginning to staunch and his hair was crusty and stiff. He took a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes against a momentary wave of nausea. But he couldn’t allow himself anymore time. That carriage was no coincidence. It must have been sent by the men upstairs, or else by Margaret, having warned the men of their questions. Seeing Jisung and him as a threat, they had tried to get rid of them. Minho told this to Jisung, and the other man frowned in agreement. 

 

Jisung watched his husband pull himself to standing, leaning heavily on the arched doorway. Just that morning it had been Jisung who needed assistance, his throbbing shoulder a reminder that he himself was still injured. His wound screaming in protest, Jisung wrapped his good arm around Minho’s waist, holding the man up as they hobbled down the street. A pair of wounded birds, they limped away from the cursed tavern and the secrets it held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! And it's only been a week! I'm starting to settle into summer classes so I'll hopefully be able to update more frequently. That being said, I'm also working on a new fic for A.C.E which you can look out for closer to their comeback date. I hope everyone has a great week~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, “It might have been.”  
> -Kurt Vonnegut

Two days have passed since the events at the Briar Knight. Minho and Jisung dress for the musicale in relative silence, Minho in his finery, and Jisung in his knight’s costume. While their injuries had much healed over the past few days, Jisung still winced when he stretched his shoulder, and Minho occasionally had to steady himself when he stood up too fast. As Jisung’s costume was more involved than Minho’s, the later was soon dressed and found himself waiting for his husband. Sitting on the bed, he let his mind wander.

 

* * *

 

Despite his husband’s protests, Minho had insisted on reporting their findings to Randulphus immediately after their return from the tavern. Despite his stumbling, and the fact that he was leaning heavily on the wall as he walked, Minho pushed Jisung back into their bedroom and made his way to his superior’s office. Knocking, a bit too loudly, he heard a voice from inside call him in. Randulphus was perched on the corner of his desk, reading a report printed on crisp cream-colored paper. Minho shut the door with an echoing click and turned back to the officer. He wasted no time with pleasantries, launching immediately into a description of what he had learned.

 

Randulphus frowned, the forgotten report hanging limp from his hands. “These men, you say they’ve been meeting at the tavern for over a month?” 

 

“Yes Sir,” Minho confirmed, “however we were unable to determine the nature of their meetings.”

 

“Regardless, it is alarming, although not surprising, that there is any group of men meeting in secret behind the walls of the congress.” He walked around his desk and sat down, placing the report on a stack to his right. He appeared deep in thought for a minute before he looked back up at Minho, the later swaying slightly where he stood.

 

“As much as I hate to say it, this new information takes precedence over Isadora. I would like you to switch your investigation to the men from the tavern.”

 

Minho was about to protest, thinking of Jisung’s anguish should they drop the case, but Randulphus interrupted him.

 

“It is likely, after all, that she was murdered by these men for discovering something they would prefer be kept secret.” This gave Minho pause. Randulphus was right, everything pointed to Isadora having been murdered as a way to keep her silent after discovering the men’s secret meetings. Not having any reason to protest, Minho had no choice but to agree.

 

* * *

 

The door swung open silently on oiled hinges, but Seungmin heard him come in nonetheless. He tensed at the sight of his husband’s reflection in the mirror and smoothed his satin suit to hide his trembling hands. He sat very still, conscious of Hyunjin’s gaze on him.

 

“You look beautiful,” Hyunjin began, “I’m sorry, I know I’m late.”

 

“They sent your costume for the musicale up this morning.”

 

“I’ll change immediately.” Seungmin felt torn watching Hyunjin turn to leave, and in a burst of confidence and despair he reached out.

 

“Hyunjin,” his voice broke, “I don’t know if this makes it easier or harder but... I know.” The blood drained from Hyunjin’s face.

 

“Know?”

 

“About you and Isadora. I know you were her lover.” Seungmin stood defiant in the face of the man he once loved. Hands shaking, lips trembling. Each breath a knife forcing him to recognize the thing his love had become. And Hyunjin; Hyunjin looked into the face of a ghost he had created.

 

He took a step forward.

 

“Darling-”

 

“Don’t.” Seungmin cut him off, meeting Hyunjin’s eyes with a blazing mixture of courage and broken love.

 

“Oh, Seungmin.” He seemed frozen in his place, afraid that any move might chase Seungmin away.

 

“Seungmin please, let me explain. I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“Which doesn’t change the fact that you did.” Seungmin turned away, conscious of the heavy ruby at his throat that had belonged to Hyunjin’s mother.

 

“I remember the day we met. It was at a dinner at my Aunt’s and I had danced with far too many boring suitors, and then I turned around and saw you across the hall. I thought you were the most handsome man I had ever seen.”

 

“Seungmin-” The name was harsh on his throat.

 

“That wasn’t when I fell in love with you.” Seungmin picked up a glove from the dressing table, slipping the soft leather over his fingers.

 

“Perhaps a month later I ran into you in the park, you were there with your mother who had been ailing at the time. While she rested we sat under a tree and made conversation, you told me you had taken to reading to her in the evenings, as she didn’t have the energy to read to herself. It was then that I thought you were not only the most handsome man I had ever met, but perhaps one of the kindest as well. I went home that night and wrote in my diary that I was positive I would love you forever.”

 

His eyes met Hyunjin’s across the room and he saw the man swallow.

 

“It’s amazing how long I believed in that.”

 

Without giving Hyunjin a chance to protest, Seungmin snatched up his other glove and left the room. Leaving a shell shocked Hyunjin behind.

 

* * *

 

Minho sat with the other courtier’s on their raised platform at the end of the field, awaiting the arrival of their partners. At the sound of the horn the gates opened and the horses filed in, their riders adorned with polished armour and standards in a dozen colours. Minho spotted Jisung at his spot at the end, purple sash burning a scar against his white mare. A few places down, Hyunjin sat numbly on top his horse, red fabric hung limp where it was draped across the mare’s back. Minho followed the other man’s gaze and found Seungmin in the stands. The younger man’s face was tight with stress, his eyes did not meet Hyunjins. His view of Seungmin was blocked by Casimir returning to his seat in front, and he turned his attention back to the tournament.

 

After the customary greeting, the courtiers returned to their places on the platform, and the riders lined up for the jousting. The first few rounds were uneventful. This being a mock jousting, the tips of the lances were dulled and capped, and rider’s gained points through taps. A young Fargesian bested a Geum count, and they were followed by a close match between two Itean youths. The passes began to blend into each other, and Minho diverted his attention instead to observing the people around him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what was wrong. 

 

Minho’s attention was called back to the musicale when the announcer called out Hyunjin’s name. Hyunjin took his place at the north end of the field, a blond Agerattan man opposite him. The whistle sounded and the horses took off at a gallop. They passed once, point to Wistaria. A second pass, point to Ageratta. On the third pass, it looked as though Hyunjin would win, the point of his lance leveling at his opponent’s chest. Ten paces between them, now five, and then Hyunjin was thrown from the saddle, landing heavy on the hard earth. There was silence for a second as everyone tried to process what had happened. Hyunjin’s horse had thrown a shoe, the resulting stumble causing her rider to slip off the side. 

 

Jisung was already off his horse, rushing across the field to where his friend lay prone. A doctor was called for and men ran onto the field, two of them bore a stretcher while a third reigned in Hyunjin’s horse. With all the people, Minho couldn’t get a good view of the scene. He caught a flash of red on the ground between the writhing mass of people and he prayed it was the scarlet cloth of Hyunjin’s standard. 

 

As they carried Hyunjin off the field, Minho looked back to the Wistaria stands to see Seungmin pushing past the other spectators. His face devastation wrapped up in stark white.

 

* * *

 

Jisung pinched his eyes shut, trying to keep his thoughts at bay as he waited by the window. After Hyunjin had been carried away, the jousting had continued, Jisung bringing the tournament to an end with an uneventful victory. After the ribbons had been handed out, he had rushed back to Hyunjin. His friend had still been unconscious then, but the doctor had been confident he only had a concussion. Though they would know more when he woke up. 

 

Again, Jisung closed his eyes, blocking out the lights and colours that swirled around him. Couples dancing and laughing as if nothing had happened. If Jisung was being honest, when the incident had happened, it wasn’t Hyunjin he saw lying on the grass. He took a deep breath, memories flooding his thoughts. Minho lying unconscious. Blood staining Jisung’s hand. Breath in. Breath out.

 

Someone spoke his name, soft, firm. He opened his eyes to see Minho watching him, concern decorating his brow. He gave his husband a small smile and slipped his finger’s between Minho’s larger ones. 

 

“How is he?” Minho asked, giving Jisung’s hand a slight squeeze.

 

“He’ll pull through, but the doctor said we won’t know for sure until he wakes up. For now, he’s stable.”

 

“What do you think happened?” Minho asked, “I thought all the horses were checked over by the referee right before the games started.”

 

“That’s the odd thing,” Jisung studied the vivid pattern on the carpet, his eyebrows scrunched together in thought. “All the horses were checked. I was there when both Hyunjin’s and my horse were looked over. Somehow between then and the tournament beginning, something happened.”

 

Minho’s lips pressed together and a dark look came into his eyes. “It was sabotage.”

 

“Sabotage!” Jisung exclaimed, “But why? Who would have a reason?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Minho admitted, “But it’s the only answer. Hyunjin was seen with Isadora, and between the plot from the Tavern and the illegal artwork I can think of a few ways people might infer that Hyunjin was privy to dangerous information.”

 

Jisung had to admit it made sense, but before he could begin to think about who might be so bold as to attempt such a stunt in the public eye, they were interrupted. The waiter slipped a folded paper into Jisung’s hand, passing the pair champagne in delicate stemmed wine glasses to make the exchange look perfectly casual. Having done his duty, the man faded into the crowd. Jisung leaned further into the window alcove and unfolded the note, smoothing the paper between his thumbs.

  
  
  


_ Jisung, _

_ I pray you never recieve this, for if you do it means my suspicion was right. However I am learning caution, it is one of the few things you were able to pass on to me. I found a fragment of paper under the piano after my party last month. In code. From the bit I could decipher, it referred to a plot. It referred to an assassination, I don’t know who of, but someone of importance for sure. It also held the name the Briar Knight tavern. I visited it and learnt of a group of men who meet there regularly. I hope to know more by the next time I see you, but if I don’t then you will at least know as much as I do. _

 

_ Always yours, _

_ Isadora _

 

* * *

 

When Hyunjin opened his eyes, Seungmin was perched at the side of his bed. The shorter man’s face pinched with worry and guilt. At the sight of movement, he sprung up, rushing to hold Hyunjin’s hand. Thing’s were foggy, but Hyunjin distantly recognized the tear streaks that marked his husband’s cheeks. After the doctor had examined him, he was announced fit to return home, provided he follow strict bed rest for at least a week. After providing Seungmin with detailed instructions, the doctor left the couple alone.

 

Hyunjin focused on Seungmin’s fingers caressing his own, a mixture of pain and pleasure creating a confusing cocktail in his lungs.

 

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be there when I woke up.” Hyunjin’s voice was quiet, tight with the pain in his heart and a pounding headache. Seungmin looked up, and when they looked into each other’s eyes this time, Hyunjin still saw the betrayal in Seungmins. But it was duller now, overshadowed by something stronger.

 

“Please Seungmin, I can’t ask you to forgive me, but at least let me explain myself.” Seungmin gave a small nod, and Hyunjin told him in soft tones of the painting Isadora had offered. The painting he had envisioned giving Seungmin, delighted in imagining how his husband’s eyes would light up upon seeing it. He told Seungmin of his secret meetings with Isadora, he told him everything without hesitation.

 

“Where did I go wrong Seungmin,” He wondered, “when did my rash decision become something so big, so dangerous.”

 

It was a while before Seungmin replied. The silence stretching between them like taffy pulled too thin. 

 

“I was so scared Hyunjin.” Like the taffy, Seungmin’s voice was near to breaking. Worn rough with worry. “When I saw you lying on the field, I didn't know what to do. I was furious at you, but the thought that what I said this morning might be our last conversation terrified me.” 

 

His lips pouted, and unshed tears threatened to overflow his glassy eyes. Hyunjin reached out, wrapping his arms around the man he loved. They stayed like this, curled together on stark white sheets, until Seungmin pulled away. When he spoke again his voice was watery and thin.

 

“No more secrets Hyunjin.” His eyes were earnest, searching. “I can’t forgive you for this, but I loved you, and I think I can learn to love you again.”

 

* * *

That night, Minho and Jisung poured over Isadora’s note. Examining it for hidden messages and clues. Based on the content of the note, they inferred that she had suspected she was in danger and had arranged for the letter to be delivered to Jisung in the event something should happen to her. But how had the known what was to come?

 

So engrossed in their brainstorming were they that they nearly missed the sound of the door to their private rooms open. The two looked up to see Jeongin slip in, silent on bare feet.

 

“Jeongin?” Jisung asked, making a move to get up. Jeongin waved him back.

 

“I know you wanted me to stay out of it Jisung, but I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I wanted to help you both.” Minho raised an eyebrow, inviting the younger to speak.

 

“I’ve been questioning the staff at the Viola palace in case any of them had seen anything.”

 

“And?” 

 

Jisung took a deep breath, and almost looked apologetic as he spoke his next words.

 

“One other man was seen entering Isadora’s rooms the night of her death. A footman remembers Hyunjin entering through a back door about an hour before Jisung arrived.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo much Hyunmin angst I'm sorry.... the plot's starting to get complicated! Can you guys keep up? Any ideas on who the killer is yet?? I've started to drop a few hints here and there ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.   
>  -Agatha Christie, The Hound of Death

Randulphus stood looking out of the large bay window in his office, studying the city that spread out below him with a calculated silence. With his back to Minho, the agent was unable to read the expression on his boss’ face. 

 

“You said you received this note from a waiter at the reception last night?” Minho nodded. When they had received Isadora’s letter the night before, Minho had wanted to inform Randulphus immediately. However Jisung had convinced him to sleep on the matter, allowing them to come up with a more solid plan of action.

 

“I believe this is the information we were waiting for,” Randulphus finally turned to face Minho. The intensity in the man’s eyes was startling, and Minho found himself taking half a step backwards as he regarded the former soldier before him. This was a man who sensed danger and wasn’t afraid to take it head on.

 

“I would like you to devote all of your efforts to uncovering this assassination plot.” Randulphus’ tone left no room for argument, but Minho spoke up anyways.

 

“But Sir, what about Isadora? Surely you can assign someone else to this case-”

 

“Minho, you are my best agent. We don’t have much to go on, but someone’s life could be at stake. Isn’t that more important than someone who is already dead?”

 

Minho’s protests died on his lips. Obviously Randulphus was not going to budge on the matter. With a defiant heart, he made his way back to his quarters. Randulphus may be adamant that he abandon the case, but Minho was just as determined to believe that the two were connected. It was only logical, therefore, that in investigating one he should uncover the truth to both.

 

* * *

 

While Minho reported to Randulphus, Jisung decided to confront his best friend. He had timed his visit to correspond with breakfast, when Seungmin would be in the dining room downstairs. When he edged open the door to the couple’s quarters, Hyunjin was in bed. Having been forbidden from moving about, or reading, or much else other than sleeping and staring at the ceiling, his friend’s face was a welcome distraction. Hyunjin’s smile died however, upon seeing the expression on Jisung’s face.

 

“You’re not here to interrogate an injured man are you?” He joked half-heartedly, but Jisung’s expression told him this was no laughing matter.

 

“You were seen entering Isadora’s rooms the night of her death an hour before I arrived Hyunjin. A footman recognized you.” Jisung’s voice broke as he told his friend what he had learned. Please god, he thought, let the footman have been mistaken. Hyunjin’s face was dark, and he studied the blankets clenched in his fingers before turning back to Jisung. He took a breath.

 

“It’s true. I won’t lie to you Jisung. But I was only there on account of the painting, and I  _ swear  _ she was alive and well when I left. I only stayed 15 minutes or less.” Hyunjin’s excuses were desperate, but Jisung wanted just as desperately to believe them.

 

“Isadora wouldn’t let me stay longer,” Hyunjin continued, “She said she was expecting someone else after me, I had assumed she meant you but perhaps-” he trailed off, then met Jisung’s gaze with conviction.

 

“Jisung, is it possible that Isadora was murdered by someone she had invited over herself? Someone she knew well.” Jisung nodded, it made sense. Isadora’s body and the room hadn’t shown any signs of a struggle, much less that she had been taken by surprise. The problem was, Isadora had more than a few lovers. It would be impossible to narrow down the search from that alone.

 

Jisung was about to ask Hyunjin if she had given any hints as to who she was expecting when the door opened. Seungmin placed a tray of food on the short table next to the bed and faced the two men. Turning to his husband first, he looked him over for signs of fatigue or pain.

 

“Hyunjin, I’m going to send a letter to your brother today. I’m not sure exactly where his battalion is at the moment but he deserves to know what happened.” Hyunjin frowned and Jisung looked nervously between the two, well aware of the brothers disdain for each other. After their mother’s death, everyone had expected the two to grow closer, but their loss had only seemed to drive them further apart. While Hyunjin had pursued a career in politics, his older brother had entered the army. The brash man had always been reckless, but after years of cleaning up his older brother’s messes, Hyunjin had finally had enough and renounced their ties. This time though, he held his tongue, and nodded his consent for Seungmin to contact the estranged man.

 

Feeling like an intruder, Jisung turned to leave. He paused at the door, turning back to his friend. Hyunjin was watching him from bed.

 

“Please Hyunjin, don’t give me any more cause to suspect you.”

 

* * *

 

Alone in their rooms, Minho got ready for the day. He went over his conversation with Randuplus again, but he couldn’t pinpoint what had felt off about it. Other than the fact that the man had been uncharacteristically stern on the matter of the investigation. Normally, he would have assigned the new case to another agent, Casimir perhaps, the younger boy still having much to prove in terms of his capabilities. 

 

Distracted, Minho’s elbow caught on the little wooden case Jisung kept on the dresser. The delicate thing landed with a muffled thud on the carpet, it’s contents spilling out. Minho bent, relieved to see that nothing seemed broken. He was scooping the lapel pins and trinkets back into the container when he paused. A flash of gold against the deep blue of the carpet. With shaking hands, Minho held up a small locket hangin on a thin chain. Desperately, he searched his mind; trying to remember. But no, he was sure of it. The locket he held in his hands now, the locket Jisung was in possession of, belonged to the Princess Isadora. Anyone could have identified the locket, given that Isadora was never seen without it. And yet, Minho was positive she hadn’t been wearing it when they had found her body.

 

Before he could consider the implications of his discovery, Jisung returned. When the man walked in, Minho was still kneeling on the floor, frozen in a pantomime of betrayal. Jisung took in his husband’s position, and then the locket strung between trembling fingers. When their eyes met, the heartbreak was mirrored by each.

 

The locket dropped from Minho’s hands. As if it had seared his skin. “I’m sorry Jisung I- I was careless and I knocked it over,” Minho stumbled over his words, trying to regain footing on a ledge that was crumbling beneath him.

 

“It’s alright,” He continued, looking everywhere except at his husband, “I saw how her death affected you, I already suspected you two were lovers.”

 

“No,” Jisung’s voice was surprisingly forceful. He shoved the door closed behind him and crossed to where Minho still knelt.

 

“Darling, it’s not like that,” With a gentler hand, Jisung raised his husband from the floor and led him to the sofa in the corner of the room. Minho sank into the plush velvet, as if it could cushion him from the blow of reality. Jisung perched himself on the ottoman, choosing to face Minho as he told his story.

 

“Isadora-” The words broke off in his throat. He stared into Minho’s eyes, his own a storm of old promises and loyalties. At last he breathed in, as if finally breaking free of a lifetime’s prison.

 

“Isadora was my sister.” 

 

Minho’s breath stalled, turning to frost in his lungs and sealing off his alveoli. Sister? But… that made sense. It would explain a lot of things that had kept Minho up at night with worry. Turning back to Jisung, Minho was taken back by the look on his husband’s face. A love and sorrow so deep he wanted to cry at the sight of it. But when Jisung took his hand, he could feel that Jisung’s love was not just for Isadora. He gave his husband’s hand a squeeze, encouraging Jisung to find the words to continue. 

 

The story Jisung told was nothing short of fantastical. He explained how his mother, young and tasting freedom for her first time, had been allowed to accompany her grandfather on a tour of the continent. It was shortly after this tour that the lady had discovered she was pregnant. Jisung’s mother was 16 and unwed, and a child would have destroyed her hopes for a future. So she was hidden away, and the child was born in secret at a small hunting villa owned by the family. The child, Isadora, had been ripped from her mother’s side at the tender age of a week old, given over to the Seo family to be raised in secret. As soon as she was old enough, Isadora had been enrolled in private academies. Changing schools every year, and under a new name each time.

 

“When I first met her, she went by Dahlia. She loved that name, it means to be graceful under pressure and to stand out from the crowd. We always thought it was fitting.” Minho’s thumb caressed the back of Jisung’s hand, coaxing his husband to sit beside him on the couch where they could better feel each other’s heartbeat thrumming where their legs pressed together.

 

The story went on. Jisung had been eleven when his mother had taken him on a spontaneous trip to Fargesia. When they arrived, his mother had taken him to a boarding school and they had returned to their hotel with Dahlia, as she was known then. Their mother had introduced the two of them, and they had shared an instant bond. Having been raised as an only child, Jisung had been delighted to have an older sister to play with. Over the next week, they had been inseparable, and when the time came for Isadora to return to the school, the two had promised to write each other using a secret code of their own creation. The letters had continued for years, long after Isadora had graduated from finishing school and had begun her life as an agent under Changbin’s family.

 

“Do you know who her father was?” Minho asked after a long silence. Jisung shook his head.

 

“I know my mother was in Itea when she was conceived, but thats all. It was her most closely guarded secret. I’m not sure she even contacted the man after Isadora was born.”

 

Minho’s heart went out to the woman. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to be in that situation. To have a child die would break anyone’s heart, but to not be able to claim your child as your own; to be forced to give up your child to be raised by strangers. 

 

A sharp breath in. He suddenly knew with startling certainty what was in Morwenna’s papers that Isadora had stolen.

 

* * *

 

It was half-past one by the time Minho made it to Morwenna’s private quarters in the Viola palace. He told the butler who answered the door that he required a private meeting with the Countess immediately. The man led him to a piano room off of the main parlor and instructed him to wait. 

 

It wasn’t long before Morwenna joined him, planting herself in an armchair with the determination of a planet pulling asteroids into her orbit. She faced Minho with an air of expectancy, and Minho could tell she was hoping he had news about the papers. He hated to crush her anticipation.

 

“How old is your daughter?”

 

With five words, Minho watched Morwenna’s walls crumble. Years worth of hardening and protective charms shattered. When the last parapet fell, Minho saw the real Morwenna. The woman before him now was not the elusive heiress who had the leaders of nations at her beckon and call. This lady was tired, so tired. She had faced the destruction of a star and it had won. 

 

“You found the papers?” Her voice was smaller than Minho had ever heard, but a sliver of hope held her together. 

 

“Not yet,” He genuinely felt sorry for this lady. He wanted, oh he wanted so bad to have better news for her. Morwenna looked up at the man, curiosity and bewilderment in her eyes.

 

“Then how did you know about-”

 

“I’ll admit the gender was a wild guess, but it’s right isn’t it.” Morwenna nodded. Her knuckles were white where they gripped at her fan.

 

“Morwenna,” Minho continued in a softer tone, “The papers have to do with her, don’t they?” He waited patiently, giving the woman time to respond.

 

“Her name is Laurie.” She took a breath before continuing. “She’s four this year. A cousin of mine, a distant cousin, has been raising her in the north since she was born. She- her father is a minor duke. He approached me at a particularly depressing time in my unhappy marriage and who was I to refuse the only comfort I could find at that time?” Minho nodded, Morwenna’s former husband had never been subtle with his affection of other women, his disdain for his wife, or his habits of violence. 

 

“Albion truly loves me. When he learnt of Laurie he promised me he’d find a way to get her back for me. I believed him too. I was desperate and fool enough to actually discuss it in letters.”

 

“And Isadora got a hold of one of these letters,” Minho was beginning to piece together what had happened.

 

“I was furious,” Morwenna continued, “She stole it from his desk after they- I knew they had been courting but I had trusted Albion. And then that, that witch used Laurie to blackmail me and I-” Her voice rose an octave with her distress. Reaching out, Minho placed a steady hand on the lady’s wrist. Stilling her.

 

“I swear to you Morwenna, I will get those papers back for you. And I promise I won’t breathe a word of Laurie to anyone.”

 

Gratitude and relief. The tears flowed from behind Morwenna’s eyelids with all the pent up fury of four years of torture and solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience~ I've spent the last week writing the last two papers of my degree! Just a few more months of preceptorship and I'll be done!! I hope everyone's week has been good so far! I'll hopefully be able to update more regularity now that my major papers are all done. Leave a comment! What do you think of the latest turn of events? What are your theories on the murder and the assassination plot? Who do you think is the killer? I'd love to hear from you either here or at my tumblr @jeonginsbracessavedmylife


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."  
> \- Charles Baudelaire’s poetry collection 'Paris Spleen'

Minho remained at Morwenna’s for an hour longer. His attempts to comfort the lady were awkward at best, but his sympathy was sincere. Finally, after two cups of tea and half a dozen biscuits, Morwenna was calm enough that Minho felt it socially appropriate for him to take his leave. He made his way back to the Heucherella, careful to avoid being seen leaving the Viola palace. It would not do to add more rumors to his and Jisung’s already scandalous private lives.

 

When he at last made it back to his shared rooms with Jisung, he found that his husband wasn’t alone. Seated at the small dining table they used on the rare occasions they took their meals in privacy were two young children. Minho recognized the boy from the Briar Knight, but the girl was a stranger. The two children were currently occupied with devouring two equally thick slices of chocolate cake. His husband was occupied with delighting at the children’s wonderment at the sweet desserts. It was a pretty picture, Minho thought, such domestic beauty. For a split second, Minho found himself thinking of the future, and what could be. But he quickly extinguished the thoughts. No point on dwelling on ‘what ifs’.

 

Hearing his entrance, Jisung turned around. The joy in his eyes squeezed Minho’s heart. Jisung had always loved children. He was forever doting on his younger cousins. 

 

“Minho!” Jisung greeted him, motioning for him to take a seat at the table. Minho took his place beside Jisung and looked more closely at the children. They were thin, and short for their age. Their clothing unwashed and too thin for the chill that Geum nights brought. At Minho’s arrival they had abandoned their cakes, watching the new arrival with wide eyes.

 

“Go ahead,” Jisung coaxed, “Introduce yourself.” Minho smiled invitingly, allowing them time to swallow their bites and prepare themselves. The girl spoke first.

 

“My name is Emily Sir, and this is my brother Lillian. You met him at the Briar Knight.” Minho nodded, letting them know he remembered.

 

“They arrived a little under an hour ago.” Jisung continued, “Jeanette brought them. Emily says the staff at the tavern learned that someone had given us information. They were too afraid to stay hidden.” Minho’s eyes darkened and he turned back to the children.

 

“I’m sorry you were brought into this, but you did the right thing coming to us. We’ll keep you safe here.” Emily’s brows softened a bit, and suddenly Minho could see how tired she looked. She couldn’t have been more than 14, but she had the eyes of a grown woman. 

 

“Thank you,” She said, and Minho could hear true relief in her voice. “If there’s anything we can do to help you more, I don’t know much about the men but I’ve served them more often than Lillian. Perhaps I can recognize their language?” 

 

“That would be a huge help if you could.” Minho smiled warmly, and the girl returned his smile with one equally as bright.

  
  


Minho and Jisung took turns speaking a sentence in each language. Holding a bizarre conversation unintelligible to even them. On their fifth try, Emily sat up a bit straighter, her eyes narrowing in concentration. Minho repeated himself, then spoke another few lines in the language. After a minute, Emily nodded.

 

“That’s it. I’m sure of it.”

 

The couple exchanged a look. If Emily was right, the men meeting above the Briar Knight who were so anxious to keep their presence a secret were speaking Agerattian. 

 

* * *

 

Edric looked up at the sound of the door opening. He breathed a sigh of relief to see Minho and Jisung making their way through the Cafe to where he sat in the back corner. The two had sent him a note earlier that afternoon requesting he meet with them urgently at the described location. He had come immediately, not daring to hope the two had news of the missing papers. But when they slipped into chairs opposite him their faces were grim, and Edric felt whatever unspoken hope he had whither.

 

“You two look as though you’ve just been told of the end of the world.” He tried for a weak joke. It didn’t work. Jisung’s fingers tapped nervously at the table.

 

They told their story as briefly as they could. Speaking in hushed tones and half-breaths. Dangerous secrets were being spoken, and they were well aware that anyone could be listening. Edric listened with growing eyes, not entirely sure if he wanted to believe what they were telling him. 

 

“And you’re certain they were speaking Agerattian?” He asked. Minho nodded, he was almost sorry for Edric. 

 

“I can’t believe Emperor Chan would be involved in a secret plot.” He shook his head again, unable to grasp what his friends were saying. Minho leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

 

“That’s what we’re afraid of.” He explained, “That the Emperor isn’t involved. Everyone knows Emperor Chan to be a just and honest ruler. I would never accuse him of plotting behind the court’s backs.”

 

“But that just makes this situation more precarious.” Jisung continued, “It means that someone else from the Agerattian council is making plans behind their Emperor’s back.”

 

Edric nodded, his mind racing in a thousand directions. Who would be brave enough, or foolish enough, to dare such an act of treason? Sadly, he could name a few.

 

“Edric, I know what we’re asking of you is treason itself, and you have every reason to refuse, but we’re thinking of the safety of, not only our own delegation, but yours as well.”

 

Again, Edric nodded. “It is treason to spy on my own emperor, but to spy for the royal family, with the aim of their safety, is a noble cause. I would do it in a heartbeat if it kept them safe.” Minho smiled gratefully, for all their faults, Agerattian’s were nothing if not loyal.

 

“Do you know of anyone who might be behind this.” Jisung asked, bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. Edric cleared his throat.

 

“Chan is a wonderful ruler, and loved by most. But he is not without enemies. In particular, Darius has been on the opposite end of arguments in our meeting’s more and more frequently. He believes Ageratta is more than deserving of ruling over the smaller provinces that border our lands and frequently disagrees with Chan’s conviction to help them set up their own governments.”

 

Minho recalled his own conversation with Darius at the masquerade. The man was certainly passionate about his country’s military. But was ethnocentrism enough to entice treason?

 

* * *

 

That evening found Jisung and Minho at another ball, this one hosted by Emperor consort Woojin himself. The timing almost made Minho suspicious, but logically he knew that the invitations for tonight had been sent out nearly two weeks ago. Still, he kept a sharp eye on the guests around him. Edric, he knew, was keeping watch from within the Agerattian central circle as well. 

 

Between Minho focusing all his attention on watching the party goers, and Jisung begging him for a few dances, the night passed relatively uneventful. It was not until after dessert had been cleared away and the older guests had begun to trickle out the front doors that Jeongin slipped into the windowsill where the two were enjoying a quiet minute together. The two shared a warm greeting with the younger boy, but grew serious when they saw Jeongin’s expression. Halfway between worry and excitement.

 

“Ok I know I’m not supposed to know what’s going on. And believe me, you two are great at keeping secrets. Just not from me, I know you both too well. But anyways I don’t know the whole story but I do know you’ve both been keeping a close eye on the Agerattian delegation all night. So I thought you’d like to know that I just saw a waiter slip a note into Darius’ hand.” 

 

Minho had no idea how Jeongin had pieced together what was happening, but for once he was grateful for how attentive the boy was. 

 

“How long ago?”

 

“Not five minutes. He’s just coming into the ballroom now.” Jeongin nodded discreetly in the direction of the bay doors. Sure enough, Darius had just come in with a group of Agerattian nobels. Minho pushed himself away from the window.

 

“Minho?” Even without turning Minho could hear the concern in Jisung’s voice. He realized how little his husband really knew of what he did for a living.

 

“Wait here.”

 

He made his way over to the little group, snatching an empty champagne glass from a passing waiter. As he approached his target he dragged his feet a bit, twirling the glass by it’s delicate stem. Pretending to stumble, his shoulder bumped Darius as he passed, and he turned back to apologize. His words slurring just enough. As he had hoped, Darius brushed off the accident, asking Minho to join him for one of the last dances of the evening. A waltz; not a dance that afforded close proximity with one’s partner, but Minho would make do. He made a weak protest, but Darius insisted. Minho knew he would; The man was never one to pass up an opportunity to gather information, and the slightly drunk husband of an important diplomat was ripe for the picking.

 

Jisung watched with Jeongin as Darius led his husband onto the dance floor. Watched Minho giggle as Darius pulled him closer when he stumbled. He didn’t notice he was frowning until Jeongin reached out to poke his cheek. When he turned to snap at his cousin he saw the look of amusement in the boy’s eyes. Jisung flushed with embarrassment and turned away. He was very aware of the heat that rose from his cheeks. Something burned in his stomach. 

 

They were dancing a waltz, Jisung thought, it really wasn’t necessary for them to be standing so close. Jisung bit his lip. Sure if it was Hyunjin or someone they knew, even Edric, he would be ok with this. But this was Darius. He reminded himself that Minho knew what he was doing, but it didn’t make him feel any better. After what felt like an hour, the dance came to an end. Jisung watched as Minho gave a clumsy bow to his partner and made his way back to Jisung. 

 

Grabbing Jisung’s hand, Minho pulled his husband away from the windowsill. Jeongin scrambled after them as Minho led Jisung out to the gardens, swinging their interlocked hands with a little too much force. It wasn’t until they had made their away round the back of the palace and were nearing the street that would take them home that Minho dropped the act. He turned back to face the cousins. The two were watching him curiously. Triumph shining in his eyes, Minho waved a piece of folded paper in front of their noses.

 

“A word of advice: one’s belt is not a secure hiding place for secret notes.”

 

Jeongin crowed in delight. Jisung wasn’t sure if he liked the admiration Jeongin showed for Minho’s talent in pickpocketing, but he had to admit he was impressed himself. They held off celebrating though, until they arrived back at their quarters. Jeongin joined them in their bedroom, where Minho spread the scrap of paper on the table. It was in code, but between Minho and Jeongin they had solved it before Jisung could decide if he could really help at all. Jeongin’s pencil traced the last letter of the decoded message and they stared down at what was written.

 

“It’s a go at the month’s end masquerade.”

 

Minho shared a look with Jisung. This all but confirmed that Darius was involved in a plot of some sort, but the vagueness of the message only added more questions to their ever growing list of concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ First off I'd like to thank everyone for reading my fic! This update is a little bit of a breather from the drama but I hope you enjoy it! I forgot to mention last chapter but we are officially over halfway through this fic! I have about 6 more chapters planned, but depending on how long some of them get that could grow. Leave me a comment or chat with me on tumblr @jeonginsbracessavedmylife


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."
> 
> —F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Minho turned at the sound of the door opening. When he saw it was Jeongin he smiled warmly, inviting the boy to join him at the small side table. Jeongin practically bounced across the room, obviously pleased with whatever he had just accomplished. His joy was intoxicating and Minho found himself laughing a bit as Jeongin sat down.

 

After the events of the previous night, Jeongin had been eager to help Minho and Jisung in their investigation. He had obviously taken his role in their recovery of the note as his acceptance into the plot and had immediately wanted to know his next mission. Although Jisung still had qualms about the boys involvement, Minho had been able to convince him that Jeongin had the right to know why his family never seemed to have time for him anymore. Once Jisung had been convinced that Jeongin would stay away from anything dangerous, Minho had given him the task of scouting out Isadora’s dressmaker. 

 

It was a loose end Minho had been meaning to follow up with himself, but with everything happening at once he had never found the time. In a world where parties were everything, A woman’s dressmaker was her lifeline. The fashion of ones outfit could spell an increase in fortune, or else disaster. Jeongin had been sent that morning to question the staff of the shop, as well as those of the surrounding businesses about anything they may have seen. Judging by Jeongin’s entrance, Minho assumed his interrogation had been successful.

 

“It seems that Isadora had frequently been known to entertain men in a back room at the shop.” Jeongin didn’t wait for Minho to say anything before he launched into his findings, too excited at having something to contribute.

 

“Everyone I spoke with described a different man- how busy was she?- but get this! The last time Isadora went to her dressmakers was the day before her death. As usual she was visited by a man in the backroom. The seamstress refused to tell me who but I asked the jewelers next door and he recognized the man. It seems that Isadora was with Colonel Ulric not 24 hours before her death.”

 

* * *

 

Minho stood in front of the shop windows, gazing down at the ribbons and silk. The dress displayed in the window was red; crimson folds of satin held together by delicate lace ties. But Minho wasn’t seeing a dress there. It was a long time ago, they hadn’t even married yet. Minho, orphaned and abandoned after the Scorch wars had ended, was facing the threat of imprisonment by his own king. When he had first met Jisung, he had had no wardrobe, no money, and no friends. With little but the clothes on his back he had presented to the Wistarian embassy, begging refugee status. He had been handed over to Jisung to save as he saw fit. 

 

That day, years ago now, Jisung had taken Minho shopping. He had waited patiently as Minho was fitted for suits and coats, even picking out a jacket for him. The jacket, lost to time and wear by now, had been this same red. The red of a beating heart, bleeding under the weight of secrets not spoken. Minho had thought that jacket was perfect then. It reminded him that he was little more than a charity case for Jisung, with too much hidden between them to ever be able to bridge. Now though, Minho would gladly fold that old jacket and hide it away in an attic chest. He would never throw it away, it held too many memories for that, but it was ill suited for the man he was today. Although he and Jisung still held their secrets close, they were beginning to come loose. The knowledge of Jisung’s relationship with Isadora had been the first brick to come loose in the wall they had built between them, and Minho had no doubt that with the flagstone missing, the rest was sure to crumble.

 

Shaking loose from his revere, Minho gripped the shiny brass door handle and pulled, stepping in as a bell announced his arrival. A lady seated at a worktable looked up as he arrived, expertly appraising the make of his suit, the price of the stones that glittered on his ears. Standing, she made her way over to Minho, greeting him warmly as she came close.

 

“Good afternoon, and welcome to my humble shop. My name is Lady Celeste, I am the owner and head seamstress here.”

 

“Afternoon, dear Lady. I’m afraid I am not here seeking a dress today, though I have heard tell your pieces are magical.” Lady Celeste raised one eyebrow. It wasn’t often she got calls about anything other than dresses.

 

“You see, my name is Lord Isaac Elgermot. My cousin was the late Princess Isadora.” Minho watched as the Lady’s eyes became hooded, she was a sharp one. 

 

“Perhaps we should speak in private.” She turned and led Minho into a small room in the back of the shop. There were two chairs and a table, which Minho had no doubt were commonly in use by ladies and their secret visitors. Directing Minho to take a seat, Lady Celeste took the other.

 

“Such a tragedy,” The Lady lamented, “She was my favorite customer.”

 

“And you were her favorite seamstress, if I am to judge by her letters. Although I was far away in Ageratta, she raved to me of your creations in such detail I could picture them right down to the embroidery.” 

 

Lady Celeste tittered behind her hand fan, pleased with Minho’s attentions. “You are too kind,” she said, “but you didn’t come here to flatter me.” Minho grinned, she was sharp indeed. He would have to play his cards carefully.

 

“No,” he agreed, “I didn’t. I came here seeking information. I am looking for anything that can help me identify who killed my poor cousin.” Lady Celeste pressed her lips together, and Minho could sense her hesitation. She was saved from answering when they heard the bell chiming someone's arrival at the front of the shop. The Lady excused herself, quickly escaping from Minho’s critical eye.

 

Shortly after she had left, the door opened again. Minho turned to find a young girl, nearly identical to the graceful woman who had led him here, placing a tray of tea on the side table. The girl gave a polite curtsy and was about to take her leave when Minho called out to her. She approached with a quiet shyness, but her eyes were wide and curious. Minho smiled, it seems luck was on his side today.

 

“What is your name child?” He kept his voice soft, to avoid scaring the girl off, and low, lest he alert the mother of his intentions.

 

“Luna,” her voice was as downy as the rest of her, and the tips of her ears were tinged pink from the attention Minho was giving her.

 

“Luna,” Minho said, “what a pretty name. Do you often help your mother at the shop?” The girl nodded, not seeming surprised that Minho had guessed her relationship to Lady Celeste.

 

“Luna, do women often use this room to meet with men?” Luna hesitated, weighing her options for answering. Minho gave her a coaxing smile. She nodded again and seemed to be debating over saying something more.

 

“There was a woman who came a few days ago right? She met with a man here.” Minho showed the girl the miniscule of Isadora he had borrowed from Jisung. Luna nodded again, this time opening her mouth to say more. 

 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, really I wasn’t. It’s just that I was sewing in the next room and their voices got loud. Really I couldn’t help it!” Her lower lip trembled, and she chewed on it to hide its betrayal.

 

“It’s alright,” Minho soothed, “you couldn’t have helped but overhear. Can you tell me what they were talking about?”

 

“I couldn’t hear much really, just voices. But there was a man, and he started yelling. I heard him say ‘this is blackmail’. After that they got quiet again and I couldn’t hear anything else.” The words left her in a rush, and she swayed after they were out, drained now that her part was done. As she was finishing her sentence, the door opened and Lady Celeste came in. Seeing her mother, the poor girl trembled like a leaf, no doubt thinking she had done something terrible.

 

“Your daughter is very kind,” Minho smiled, “and very clever. You must be so proud of her.” Lady Celeste’s looked between the two before waving her daughter to her side. Bending, she met Luna’s eyes and tweaked her chin.

 

“It’s alright love,” she said softly, “you were only answering the gentleman’s questions. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Luna seemed comforted by her mother’s forgival. Lady Celeste dismissed her daughter and moved to sit across from Minho. Sighing as she lowered herself into the velvet chair.

 

“Well, you know half of the story already. What would you like to know?” 

 

“Do you recognize this man?” Minho brought out a new miniscule, this one of Colonel Ulric, something he’d obtained years ago. The Lady squinted, examining the small painting, before clearing her throat.

 

“I’ve only seen him once before. He called on Isadora during her last visit here.”

 

Minho nodded, having known as much. “How long were they together?”

 

“He came close to the end of her fitting. They were alone for perhaps 15 minutes, and then they left together.”

 

“When they left, how did they appear?” Lady Celeste paused, choosing her words carefully.

 

“When they left, they appeared as if they had come to an agreement.” Minho hummed quietly.

 

“Aside from this man, did isadora meet with men frequently here? And was there anyone who came more frequently than others?”

 

Lady Celeste thought over this for a minute. Before she answered Minho she took a sip of tea, searching deep in Minho’s eyes for something there. Perhaps she found it, for she set her cup down and readied herself to answer.

 

“Isadora had many companions, but there was one man who visited her here more than others. I don’t know his name, but his accent was Wistarian.” Minho sucked in a breath, he almost didn’t want to ask his next question.

 

“This man,” he began, “did he have darker hair and a taller, lean build?” 

 

Lady Celeste frowned, “No. No he was a young man with light hair. And I’d say he was fairly short as well.”

 

Minho couldn’t help but be relieved. Isadora hadn’t been meeting with Hyunjin then. But if not Hyunjin, who within the Wistarian court had been courting with Princess Isadora?

 

* * *

 

Not allowing himself time to breath after his investigation at the dressmakers, Minho made his way back to the Heucherella. When the elegant palace was right before him, he crossed the street, making his way instead to the Wistarian military compound. Here he navigated his way to the front door of an upper level flat. He knocked, waiting impatiently for the occupant to answer. After a few minutes, Minho heard footsteps and the door swung open to reveal Colonel Ulric. Surprise flashed across the soldier’s face, but it was quickly replaced by calm arrogance.

 

“Well now this is unexpected,” his voice was liquid honey. It felt sticky on the back of Minho’s neck. When Minho made no effort to reply, Ulric moved aside, allowing Minho entrance to his apartment.

 

Ulric led him to a small sitting room, motioning for Minho to sit on one of the threadbare chairs. He remained standing. After taking a glance around, Minho turned back to face the Colonel, his eyes closed off to emotion.

 

“I’ll be brief Colonel,” he said, “you were seen holding a private meeting with Princess Isadora the day before her death.” For a split second, Ulric’s impassive facade faltered, allowing Minho a glimpse at the cruel man underneath. In a second, it was gone.

 

“Am I not allowed to entertain women of my choosing?”

 

“You are Colonel. However, when we met at the masquerade you claimed you had only arrived in Geum after Isadora’s death.” Ulric opened his mouth to protest, but Minho gave him no chance.

 

“Besides that fact, you were overheard at Isadora’s dressmakers. May I ask what Isadora was blackmailing you for?” 

 

The effect was instant. At once, Ulric’s mask fell apart, leaving his bare face raw to the world. He snapped his teeth at Minho, a wild look in his eyes.

 

“How dare you,” he growled, lips drawn back over white teeth. “Are you accusing me of murder?”

 

“I did no such thing Colonel,” Minho kept his voice calm, “I merely pointed out that you are in a precarious position. I would suggest you attempt to dissuade me.”

 

“You- you can’t do this. I  _ own _ you Minho, you can’t go against me.” His voice rose in volume, becoming shrill with emotion. “You will tell no one about my meeting with Isadora, or about when I arrived in Geum.”

 

Suddenly, he became still; confidence overtook his features and he grinned as though he had already won. “If you so much as breath to anyone about this, I’ll tell your beloved husband about your past-  _ our _ past.”

 

Minho sucked in a cold breath. He had expected this, but he had held out hope that it wouldn’t happen. The wall between him and Jisung lost another brick, but was the wall keeping them apart, or protecting the fragile balance of their relationship? With shining eyes, Minho held Ulric’s gaze. Refusing to look away.

 

“Then tell him. I have nothing more to fear from my history.”

 

Minho let himself out of the apartment, leaving Ulric spluttering behind him.

 

* * *

 

Jisung looked up at the sound of his husband’s return to their private rooms. He could tell from the way Minho held himself that something had upset the man, and Jisung’s immediate instinct was to comfort him. When he moved to do so, however, Minho brushed him aside. 

 

“Please Jisung I- I need to talk with you.” Jisung nodded, becoming solemn. Placing a hand on Minho’s back, he led the man gently to their bed, taking a seat beside him. He waited patiently for Minho to gather himself. 

 

“Yesterday you shared with me about your past with Isadora. I truly am grateful that you trusted me enough for that. Now it’s my turn to tell you about myself.” Jisung’s eyes went wide, and he placed an urgent hand over Minho’s. Minho had never before willingly shared his past with Jisung, save the essentials needed for them to marry.

 

“Minho you don’t- you are under no obligation to share anything. I didn’t tell you expecting anything in return.” 

 

Minho shook his head, “I am not telling you because I am obligated to, I want you to know this Jisung. I want you to hear this from me.”

 

Silence stretched between them. Minho’s eyes were pleading and after a moment Jisung nodded for Minho to continue. Taking a deep breath, he began.

 

“I was born to a Perovskian man and a Wistarian woman. I grew up in a country torn apart by war. Perovskia then was scarcely a memory of what it was before; fires raged where there should have been crops. When I was fourteen, my parents were murdered by the same officers who had been sent to our country as protection.

 

They attacked our estate at night, pulling my father from his bed and slitting his throat without warning. They took more time with my mother, allowing themselves time to find pleasure with her first. After they had had their fun with us, they turned to the little town nearby. Even from my hiding place in the castle, I could hear the screams.

 

I’m not sure why they never killed me. They found me easily enough, but I suppose they thought I could be useful for something. They kept my wrists tied for the first week, and after I made no attempt to escape, they allowed me more freedom. They had me do all sorts of jobs, I’ll spare you the details, and after another few weeks I began to earn their trust. I waited until they had decided I wasn’t going anywhere, then I ran.

 

Somehow I made it to a city large enough to disappear in. I lived on the streets, like a common orphan. It was here that Ulric found me. He had been sent to Perovskia as a spy for the Wistarian military. He saw potential in me I guess, for he took me off the streets and trained me. He trained me to be a spy, to follow his orders. I-”

 

Minho’s voice broke, his sentence cut off by a choking sob. Jisung rubbed circles on the man’s back. 

 

“I did horrible things Jisung, things I never want to remember. Things I can’t seem to forget, no matter how hard I try. But I had no choice. Ulric had saved my life and I was obligated to please him. I was terrified that if I refused to do something he would cast me out. It was alright at first, when he only gave me little jobs. But as my skills grew so did the tasks. Sometimes when I’m washing up at night, I feel like no matter how hard I scrub I can never wash away all the blood.

 

After a while, Ulric began to desire… other forms of payment as well. I didn’t want to, more than anything I hated those days. But I couldn’t get tossed aside. If he abandoned me I would have died.”

 

Jisung rocked Minho as he cried. The man’s breaths came in gasps. Jisung’s own eyes shone with unshed tears, but he held them in. In order to support Minho, Jisung would swallow his own pain.

 

“After the war ended, Ulric had no use for me. I was tossed aside, abandoned. With the crimes I had committed during the war, I could have been tried for treason. So I fled to the Wistarian embassy, claiming refugee status under the fact that my mother was Wistarian. After this, you know the story. You were ordered to marry me, and in doing so I would be safe from the Perovskian government. As a Wistarian citizen, they couldn’t touch me. You could have refused, no one would have held it against you. You had only just met me, and yet you saved my life. I truly could never thank you enough Jisung.”

 

Jisung couldn’t be strong any longer, and as Minho ended his story he let his tears fall. Pooling together with Minho’s on the backs of their hands, rain from two seperate clouds become one lake.

 

“I’m so sorry Jisung. I should have told you; I should have told you before you married me so that you would know. So that you could have backed out then.”

 

“Minho, I never asked-”

 

“No Jisung, you had the right to know what you were getting as a husband. You don’t deserve this.”

 

Minho’s hand’s were pried away from his face, forcing him to meet Jisung’s eyes. Fierce determination clashed against Minho’s weakened sorrow. 

 

“Minho. None of that matters to me. It doesn’t now, and it wouldn’t have then. I may have married you because I was asked to and it was a convenient way to get my father to stop setting me up with women but I love you now, and I would never change our marriage for the world.”

 

He pressed a sobbing Minho’s face into his shoulder, his own hands tangled in the man’s hair. He held Minho like this for a long time. He stopped paying attention to the time, it didn’t matter. After a while, Minho sniffed, looking up into Jisung’s eyes. With gentle hands, Jisung cleaned his husband’s face. Caressing the curve of his jaw and tilting his head to better see the aftereffects of the evening. Minho leaned into his touch, humming when Jisung brushed a finger over his lips.

 

The moment was interrupted by a harsh knock on the door. They heard Randulphus’ voice in the hallway. Minho leaned into Jisung as he pulled away, savoring the warmth left by his hands. Across the room, Jisung opened the door, letting in Randulphus. The Lord stepped into the couple’s rooms, followed closely by a pair of guards. Glancing over to where Minho sat, he cleared his voice.

 

“Jisung, I truly regret having to say this. I have received a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Princess Isadora.”

 

* * *

 

Minho stood in shock, watching his husband be led away in handcuffs. Jisung had hardly protested when Randulphus had broken the news, and had gone complacently when the guards shoved him forward. Now Minho watched as he was led roughly across the entrance hall of the Heucherella. He swayed and reached out for the wall to steady himself. Instead of the cold marble, his hand met warmth, and he looked to the side to see Seungmin’s sober expression. Seungmin placed an arm around his friend’s shoulders, steadying him. A ways away, Hyunjin and Casimir watched in grim silence.

 

It took mere minutes for Jisung to be taken away. Somehow, Minho wished it had taken longer. When the guards had left, Randulphus approached their little group. He held his head low with regret, unable to meet Minho’s eyes.

 

“Why,” Minho asked, his voice breaking with just one word. “Why was Jisung arrested? What-”

 

Randulphus held up a hand to silence Minho’s questions. With his other, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket.

 

“While searching through the Princess’ rooms, the guards found letters indicating that Isadora had been blackmailing Jisung. In addition, a witness has presented himself who claims to have seen your husband arrive at the Viola palace before you, making his alibi forfeit.”

 

Minho could hear the scrape of his breath against his throat. Blackmail? But why would Isadora blackmail her own brother? His breath was too loud in his ears, too loud. He nearly missed what Randulphus said next.

 

“Casimir, Hyunjin, I am going to hand the investigation that Minho was following over to the two of you. I don’t believe Minho is in any state to continue it. I’ll brief you on the details in my office”

 

As they left the room, Hyunjin turned back to watch Minho sink into a chair, Seungmin hovering over his shoulder. He bit his lip, wanting more than anything to stay and help. Randulphus’ voice called out for him to follow, and he turned away. The door closed softly on Minho’s gasps.

 

* * *

 

Scarcely an hour later, the door to Minho’s rooms slammed open. A furious Jeongin stormed in, his face a mess of tears and anger. Before he could say anything, Minho enveloped the boy in his arms, holding him as Jeongin dissolved into helpless tears. 

 

When he was done, Minho cleaned his face. Jeongin took a couple long breaths, then faced Minho with as much anger as before.

 

“I don’t believe it.” He stated, he didn’t need to say anything else. Minho knew.

 

“I don’t either Jeongin, and I am not going to sit back while it happens.” He took the boy by the shoulders.

 

“I promise you, I am going to do everything in my power to prove Jisung’s innocence.”

 

Jeongin nodded, determination mirrored in his eyes. A small smile slipped onto the boys lips.

 

“I want to help.”

 

* * *

 

The curtains were drawn tightly against the afternoon sun, leaving the office hidden in shadows. The only light came from a small glass lamp that illuminated half of the broad wooden desk. At the sound of the door opening, Changbin looked up.

 

“What has happened?”

 

“There has been a complication. Jisung’s been arrested.” The man dropped into a damask chair, facing Changbin. He hummed, appraising his visitor carefully.

 

“Why?”

 

“It seems new information has presented itself that proves Jisung arrived on the scene earlier than he claimed. And I believe there was something else about blackmail?” Changbin nodded, seeming to be unsurprised by this turn of events.

 

“The important thing is, how does this affect our plans?” The shadowed man scoffed, leaning forward as he answered.

 

“Well it upsets them completely I’d say. Minho’s been taken off the case and his husband is no use to us in prison.”

 

“That may be true, but Minho is still free. And he’s the important one in our plan.” The visitor looked doubtful, but Changbin continued.

 

“Besides, we may be able to make use or Edric as well. Apparently he has been working with Minho and Jisung.” He twirled a pen in his fingers, leaning back in his chair to study the light flickering against the walls. “Minho will be dining with us tonight. How fortunate.”

 

“He won’t attend. Not after today.”

 

Changbin raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I think he will, if I’ve judged him correctly. It will be quite interesting to see how things play out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly cried doing all that to Minho T_T Poor kid really can't catch a break. Sorry this chapter took so long to post... as you can see it is the longest chapter I've written so far. Heads up, next chapter might be a bit late as well. I'll work on it as much as I can but my friend is visiting from out of town so I'm spending most of my time with her for the next 2 weeks! Let me know what you think of the chapter, I love reading your comments! Do you have any guesses as to who the killer is yet? What are your theories on Darius' plot? What exactly is Changbin's role in all of this?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A truth should exist,  
> it should not be used  
> like this. If I love you
> 
> is that a fact or a weapon?” 
> 
> ― Margaret Atwood

The carriage dropped them off at the grand entrance. As they had arrived later than the rest of the Wistarian delegation, Minho and Jeongin were alone as they made their way up the stairs and into the chaotic bustle of the evening. 

 

Stepping across the threshold, Minho took in the party around him. Lord Changbin, or should he say Felix, had spared no expenses in preparing for the night, despite this only being a modest dinner. The Fargesian castle within Geum was impressive enough on it’s own, but the palace had been done up with candles and swaths of brightly coloured tapestry. Minho wasn’t surprised by this, he knew how much Felix enjoyed entertaining, but the luster of the decorations grated on his current mood.

 

As the pair entered the room set up with long buffet tables, Minho caught sight of Darius. The man in question was making an effort to slip unnoticed into the next room. Nudging Jeongin, Minho gave the boy a nod and pointed discreetly in the direction Darius had disappeared. Jeongin nodded. He knew his mission, Minho and he had discussed their plan before arriving at the party.

 

With Jeongin on Darius’ tail and determined to discover any secrets the man may be hiding, Minho diverted his attention back to his main reason for coming that night. Spotting his prey, he began his approach, plucking a thin-stemmed wine glass from a tray as he passed. A young couple spun into Minho’s way, and he sidestepped the dizzy youth without a second glance. Weaving between tipsy lovers, Minho arrived at the end of the room, a dark corner tucked between an oversized fireplace and a looming shelf of ancient armour on display. Sliding onto the bench, Minho kept his gaze forward, pretending to watch the activity on the dance floor.

 

“Did you know?” He kept his voice soft, “About Jisung and Isadora’s relationship?” There was a long silence, and Minho was about to turn in case the man hadn’t heard him when he heard his companion give a small hum.

 

“I did. But of course, you already knew that.” Changbin’s tone was serious, but Minho could tell that this was his idea of a small quip. Minho wasn’t in the mood.

 

“How much did Jisung tell you?”

 

“Everything. He told me of the circumstances around Isadora’s birth, and about her profession and how she was related to you.” A weight seemed to press down on Minho’s shoulders as he spoke. 

 

“Everything then,” Changbin hummed, but something told Minho the man knew more than he was telling.

 

“Do you know who her father was?” 

 

“If I knew, don’t you think I would have told Isadora?”

 

“No.”

 

Changbin threw back his head, a harsh laugh bubbling up from his chest. “You’re probably right, though it would depend on who the father was. But no, Jisung’s mother was a master at keeping secrets.” The shadows seemed to sharpen his face, firelight leaping in his eyes. Minho contemplated his next question, unsure of how much he’d be giving away. Jisung had trusted Changbin, but Minho was still unsure of where the man stood.

 

“Do you know any reason why Isadora would have blackmailed Jisung?” Minho asked. 

 

Changbin raised an eyebrow.

 

“Over something he didn’t want me to discover?” Minho expected denial, a joke, evasion. Instead Changbin considered him for a long moment.

 

“I suggest you ask your husband that question. It will be interesting to see what he chooses to tell you.”

 

* * *

 

The curtains closed to the sound of polite applause, the lights brightening as the audience streamed out of the theater. The opera that night was decent, but Minho found it difficult to concentrate. As the rest of the Wistarian delegation left their balcony for the reception hall and refreshments, Minho stayed where he was, moving his legs to allow his friends to pass by. Jeongin lingered, but Minho assured the boy that he was alright on his own.

 

As the last of the guests closed the door softly behind them, Minho closed his eyes. In the darkness of the balcony, he allowed himself a moment of quiet. His thoughts racing behind his eyelids, he nearly didn’t hear the curtain open behind him. It wasn’t until he heard someone settle into the chair beside him that he looked up. In the dim glow of the wall sconces, his eyes met the lighter ones of Edric.

 

“I heard the news,” the look in Edric’s eyes was something between despair and sympathy. “Are you alright?”

 

Minho sucked in a long breath. “As well as I can be.” He said, determination making his voice sharp and Edric flinched. 

 

“If there’s anything I can do to help…” He trailed off, wanting to give his services but recognizing the limitations their respective positions enforced. Glancing over, Minho pursed his lips.

 

“I know it’s unlikely, but if I could have more information about what secrets Isadora knew of the Emperor Consort, it would likely help a lot in understanding exactly what I’m dealing with.” Edric hesitated, panic showing in his usually calm eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Before he could make excuses, a new voice came from behind them.

 

“I believe that would be the best idea.”

 

“Woojin!” Edric spun in his seat, turning to face his brother. “Woojin no you-” The Emperor Consort silenced Edric with a wave, coming to sit beside the pair.

 

“No, I believe Minho has the right to know. He never asked to get tangled up in our mess.” Woojin arranged his coat tails delicately behind him, each hem encrusted with jewels. “Besides,” he faced his brother, “wasn’t it you you said we have to trust someone?” 

 

Edric grew quiet, and Minho turned expectantly towards Woojin. The man’s smile was warm, if a bit tired, and he reached towards Minho with sympathy in his eyes.

 

“I am so terribly sorry about your husband, from what Edric has told me of the two of you I am sure it was a misapprehension.” His hand squeezed Minho’s gently.

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Minho blinked back tears, Woojin’s calm presence letting his emotions sneak past the walls he had so carefully constructed. With another small smile, Woojin pulled his hand back. He pressed his lips together, a pained look in his eyes, and began his story.

 

“The papers Isadora stole from me were letters that had been exchanged between myself and my brother. Why I didn’t burn them immediately is beyond me, it truly was a foolish and dangerous mistake. And entirely my fault.” Here Edric moved to interrupt, but again Woojin raised a hand.

 

“No Edric, it  _ is _ my fault. I’m not a child anymore, I should have known better. Isadora must have snuck into my office during one of the balls, but regardless she discovered the letters I had locked in a drawer.” He paused before continuing, and Minho thought he saw tears in the man’s eyes.

 

“The content of the letters is… treason to say the least. I’m sure you know well how hated the former Emperor was. He was a tyrant- no he was more than that. He was just plain cruel, and his reign of terror over Ageratta would have continued for much longer if not for his sudden passing. They never released an official statement as to the cause of death, and no one cared enough about him to ask. Chan was crowned not a week later and the country was happy to move on.

 

It was natural for me to suspect something, given the nature of the man’s death. In the letters, Edric and I discussed the possibility that Chan had ordered the assassination of the former Emperor, his father. It- it’s possibly the most foolish thing I’ve ever done. If anyone were to discover it, both Edric and I could be tried for treason, regardless of the fact that I am Chan’s husband, or that the country rejoiced at the man’s death.” Woojin struggled to keep his voice low as he ended his story, fear making his voice shrill. 

 

Minho had heard many stories about the evil Emperor of Ageratta. They were stories told to children in Perovskia to make them behave, lest their parents ship them off to the dreaded Emperor’s court. No one had held any sympathy for the man when he had passed, regardless of how suspicious the circumstances had been. But Woojin was right. Despite everything, what he had written in those letters was treason, and treason in Ageratta was punishable by death.

 

* * *

 

Jisung stared into the milky light that filtered in from the barred window set high in the wall of his cell. Grime clung to the rough stones of the walls and dust made the air hard to breath. A single candle flickered on the small table beside the threadbare cot on which Jisung sat.

 

Letting his eyes fall closed, Jisung recalled the events of the previous day. When the guards had come with Randulphus, he had been stunned. He had considered protesting, or even running away, but he was well aware that either of those plans would only have resulted in harsher punishment for himself. And when he had been in inner turmoil, debating his options, he had looked at Minho. Minho; his brave, capable husband. In that moment, all the confidence Jisung was so used to seeing in his husband had shattered, replaced by a desperate fear. He had decided then, to go willingly. It was not only that he wanted to protect Minho, because he knew without a doubt that if he had decided to run his husband would have gone with him without hesitation, but he had every confidence in the fact that Minho would do anything in his power to prove Jisung’s innocence. Placing his trust in his husband, Jisung had allowed himself to be led to this cell, where he had been left last night. 

 

A key rattled in the lock. The door groaned as it swung open.

 

“Jisung?”

 

His eyes opened at the familiar voice. Minho stood just inside the room. He wore a solemn suit of dark green, and what little light there was clung to the white of his shirt. Behind him, the guard pulled the door shut and slid the bolt home with a bang.

 

Jisung half rose from the bed, frozen. It had not yet been two days since they had seen each other, and yet he felt parched from longing for Minho’s kind eyes. His limb’s ached to hold him in his arms.

 

Minho hesitated, and though it was less than a second, it felt like eternity. Then he rushed forward, closing the gap between them in seconds. Jisung wrapped his arms around his husband as Minho’s hands found their way into Jisung’s hair. Jisung pressed his face into Minhos neck, breathing in the man’s calming presence. They clung to each other with the hunger of those who feared they might never touch each other again. 

 

When he lifted his head, Minho took his face between his hands, fingers trembling against his skin. “Jisung, are you-”

 

“I’m alright,” Jisung assured him, “They treat me a lot better than those in group cells.”

 

“I was so afraid-” Jisung placed one of his hands over his husbands, silencing him with a gentle kiss. 

 

“Jisung,” Minho looked serious as they sat down on the narrow bed, “Ulric must have told the guard that he had seen me entering the palace alone that night. He knew I suspected him and he would have done anything to keep himself safe.” Jisung reached out to smooth over the fabric Minho was wrinkling between his nervous fingers.

 

“And what of the letter that supposedly proved Isadora had been blackmailing me?” He took Minho’s hand in his own.

 

“I believe someone took it from Isadora’s room the night she was murdered. So she never sent it, and you could never have seen it.”

 

“Unfortunately, there’s no way of proving that. What did the letter say?” Minho frowned, his fingers rubbing against Jisung’s in his hold.

 

“It was shown to Randulphus, but I haven’t had a chance to see it yet.” He looked into his husband’s eyes, searching for the right words. “Supposedly Isadora was threatening to reveal something if you didn’t do as she wished.” He hesitated, again searching for something in Jisung’s eyes. “Something you would not want me to learn.”

 

Jisung jerked his hand away from Minho’s and turned his head away.

 

“Jisung.” Minho touched his back with cautious fingers. “Under ordinary circumstances I’d never pry, but I need to know. I’m guessing Isadora wasn’t just referring to the secret of her family?”

 

“No” Jisung turned back to face his husband and the pain in his eyes made Minho pause. He reached out to brush his fingers against Minho’s cheek, but pulled back suddenly. As though he had been burned. He gave a bitter smile. “Perhaps it would be better for you if I didn’t get out of here.”

 

Minho grabbed his wrist, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

Jisung shook his head, “You don’t understand. And it was criminal of me to not have told you before you married me.” He shifted in his seat, the light drenching his features in shadows. 

 

“As I told you before, Changbin’s father made Isadora into his agent. On one of her earliest missions she had been sent to Perovskia, with myself as her chief contact.”

 

“But she would have been-”

 

“Seventeen at the time, and myself years younger. But such were the times, and the times we were born into.” Minho nodded, having gotten involved with that sort of life when he was not much older himself. 

 

“In the late summer, just after the battle of Tagetas, a group of generals were meeting in a small town to decide the next move. It was dangerous having so many allied leaders in Perovskia, especially since the country had just allied itself with Ageratta against us. As always, gold was desperately needed to pay the army and to keep innkeepers quiet. A shipment was on its way overland to us from our strong hold in Fargesia. Isadora and I were on our way to rendezvous with a contact near the capital when we intercepted a letter. In the letter we discovered that the Agerattian’s had learnt of the shipment. The gold was critical to the war efforts, so the only solution seemed to be to trick the Agerattian’s as to the route of the shipment.”

 

Jisung could still remember the sleepless nights agonizing over what to do. He had scarcely been more than a boy then, and it had felt as though the world had been left to rest on his small shoulders.

 

“We devised a letter that supposedly revealed the path of the shipment. Isadora then played the part of a bitter widow of a Wistarian soldier and approached an Agerattian agent.”

 

“Clever, and it worked?”

 

Guilt squeezed Jisung’s throat. “Too well. Our false information sent an Agerattian patrol to Ophrys.”

 

Minho, used to being five steps ahead of Jisung, felt as though he had been slapped. Jisung forced himself to meet Minho’s eyes, watching the realization creep into the eyes that had looked on him with such trust.

 

“When they failed to discover the gold, the patrol must have been angry. They torched the village. They attacked the family that lived in the estate nearby.”

 

“My family” Minho whispered. The words as hollow as a gaping chasm.

 

“Yes.” Images flooded Jisung’s mind. “It wasn’t until I met you after the war and heard your story that I realized what must have happened. It is entirely mine and Isadora’s fault for not having the foresight to realize what might have happened.”

 

Minho sat utterly still, as though afraid that if he breathed he would shatter. “You couldn’t have predicted that the soldiers would act so violently. And you had to protect the gold.”

 

“The shipment ended up falling into the hands of bandits, so it never reached the army regardless. Everything we did was for nothing.” 

 

“Civilian casualties are a fact of war.”

 

“But we should never learn to accept them.” Jisung saw Minho as he’d first seen him. Tangled hair falling into his eyes, face smeared with dried blood, eyes vibrant with life. 

 

“Oh Jisung,” Minho held Jisung’s gaze as though he might disappear at any second. “You were always too kind for war. That’s why-” He drew in a breath that sounded like the scrape of a blade across his flesh.

 

“That’s why you agreed to marry me. You were trying to make amends.” 

 

Jisung’s face crumbled under the weight of the words. “Minho no. I mean, in a way you are right but that wasn’t the only- I never should have let you marry me without telling you the truth. The most horrible thing I have done in my life was let you marry a man you had every reason to hate.”

 

“Jisung,” Minho’s hand curled painfully into his husband’s shoulder, “you know I could never hate you.” His eyes spoke of a dozen words he had left unsaid.

 

“Only because you are too good of a person. It doesn’t make what I did any less awful. You deserved to know the truth. You deserved to have the chance to make a better life for yourself, one with a man much better than me.”

 

“Jisung don’t-” Minho’s tone was sharp, but Jisung pressed on.

 

“A man who is less likely to disappoint-”

 

“You’ve never disappointed me, Jisung.”

 

He stroked his thumb against Minho’s cheek. “Liar.” He had seen look in his husband’s eyes everytime Jisung had retreated behind his professional mask. Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand and pulled it away from his face.

 

“We can’t dwell on this right now. None of this explains why Isadora was blackmailing you. What did she want?” Jisung shook his head, as much at a loss for ideas as his husband. Minho slotted his fingers between Jisung’s, pulling both their hands onto his lap.

 

“Emperor Consort Woojin came to speak to me at the Opera. He explained to me what was in the letters Isadora took.” Leaning forward, Minho pressed his lips to Jisung’s ear. In words barely more than breaths he whispered a brief account of what he had learned. A handful of words that could break a nation.

 

“No wonder Edric was so desperate to recover the letters.” Jisung said.

 

“And if Emperor Chan had known, he’d have been desperate as well. Jisung, I don’t think you were the only one Isadora summoned that night. I think she had sent letters to you, Albion, and Emperor Chan with the intention of blackmailing you all.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Not money. There must have been something else Isadora wanted.” Jisung grew quiet, his own attachments making it difficult to see past his denial. What could Isadora have wanted so badly, that it would make her blackmail the only family she had?

 

“I suppose we’ll never know more unless we can discover where she hid the papers.”

 

“And the Flora casket,” Minho interrupted, “Isadora was so reluctant to sell it to Morwenna, I can’t help but think there’s more to it than just an art treasure. Something hidden inside it?”

 

Jisung stared into the circle of light thrown onto the stone wall by the dying candle. “I keep trying to think of which of her friend’s we could be forgetting.”

 

Minho froze. “Isadora was about to blackmail two of the most powerful men on the continent, as well as her own brother. She’d know you’d all try to recover the papers, and she’d know you’d think of all her friends. Anyone obviously connected with her would be a suspect. Isadora would be too clever to hide the papers with them. However-” 

 

A sudden gleam of realization shone in Minho’s eyes. “Jisung, I think I know where to look.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am so sorry for taking so long to update T_T Life just suddenly got a lot busier than I had anticipated. But here you are! We're getting soooo close to the end now. Let me know what you guys think! I love hearing from you all =)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept.”   
> ― Carlos Ruiz Zafón (The Shadow of the Wind)

When Minho arrived at the Countess Morwenna’s private quarters in the Viola palace, he was received by a pair of anxious looking siblings. The two quickly ushered Minho in, sitting him down in the parlor and pouring him a cup of tea. Looking around, Minho could feel how tense the air was, and he wondered if he had interrupted anything. As if she could read his thoughts, Morwenna cleared her voice.

 

“I had just finished telling Felix about Laurie.” 

 

No wonder the Countess looked so tired, Minho thought. It must have been torture for her to divulge a secret she had held for so long. He smiled, hoping to put the lady at ease.

 

“I’m glad,” he said. “Troubles are easier to bear when they’re shared.” Morwenna nodded in agreement, with Felix echoing the statement. Minho glanced at the boy. Felix was young, and blissfully innocent for someone who shared a life with the people he did. It must have come as a shock to the younger boy what a mess his sister had gotten herself into; but Minho could see the kindness in his eyes, the determination to help his sister in any way he could. 

 

“How is Jisung?” Felix asked suddenly, turning his focus to his friend. Minho gave him a small smile.

 

“He’s hanging in there, at least they haven’t thrown him in the dungeon.” 

 

Felix winced. Though they had rarely seen each other outside of social events, it was no secret how well Felix and Jisung got along, the two having similar sunny personalities. 

 

“I’m glad to hear they aren’t taking advantage of the situation, but that isn’t why you’ve come is it dear?” Minho smiled, Morwenna was as perceptive as always.

 

“It’s not,” he agreed, shifting to be able to read the Countesses face more clearly. “When was the last time Princess Isadora visited your rooms?” 

 

“My rooms?” The surprise on Morwenna’s face was evident. Whatever she had expected from Minho, it hadn’t been this.

 

“Yes,” He continued, “Isadora knew we would be looking for the papers, and she knew we would search her rooms, as well as those of her friends. It’s doubtful she would have been as uncreative as to leave the papers with anyone obviously connected to her. By this logic, the most likely place she would have hidden something is-”

 

“With her enemy.” Morwenna finished. Felix gasped at the realization.

 

“She was here three days before her death,” It was Felix who answered Minho’s initial question. “At your Salon party, Morwenna. I remember her standing beside the bookshelf.” There was a moment of suspended silence, and then Felix stood up abruptly, making the other two jump at his haste. Suddenly they were all on their feet, tearing through the room and looking for anything Isadora may have left behind.

 

They turned the Salon upside down, and then the rest of the rooms too. Minho was sure Morwenna’s servants must think them insane, but they were all of them desperate for answers. Unfortunately, they came up empty handed. The three friends retired to the salon once more, disheartened over their failure and hungry from the efforts. 

 

“I really thought you were right Minho,” Felix sulked, scooping a more than generous helping of sugar into his tea. “Though I suppose it’s not like Morwenna is the only person Isadora could have considered an enemy.”

 

“You’re right,” Minho agreed. “Though having left the papers in the Viola palace would have been the most convenient place for Isadora to both hide, and reclaim, them.” 

 

Morwenna’s hand came up to her mouth. “You’re exactly right Minho, but I’m not the only occupant of the Viola palace whom Isadora was enemies with.”

  
  


“Narcissa…” Minho’s eyes grew wide at the realization. Of course Isadora wouldn’t have wanted to hide the papers so close to someone who would be desperate to get them back. Narcissa, however, was completely removed from the situation; it was the perfect hiding place. There was just one problem.

 

“How in the world are we going to convince Narcissa to let us search her rooms?” Felix voiced what they were all wondering. How indeed?

 

“Obviously we won’t directly ask her anything.” Morwenna smiled, “we just need to be able to convince her to leave one of us alone in the room she receives guests in.”

 

Together the three of them quickly devised a plan on how to infiltrate Narcissa’s rooms. Twenty minutes later the three of them set off down the hall, Minho wearing Felix’s coat to hide the soot stains that lingered on his shirt after visiting Jisung. Standing in front of the Duchess’ rooms, Morwenna knocked firmly on the door. It was opened a minute later by a footman who hid his surprise at their presence quite well. He lead them into the apartment and left them in the parlor while he went to alert his mistress. 

 

Left alone, Felix made to stand up, eager to find the papers and be done. He had barely stood up though, when he caught Minho’s eye, the older boy urging him to remain calm and sit down. It wasn’t time yet. Felix had just sat back down when there was a noise outside the door. It swung open to reveal Narcissa, the lady having obviously rushed to prepare herself for guests. 

 

“Morwenna!” She exclaimed, rushing to greet the Countess as if they were close friends and not rivals. “I must say I am surprised to see you. And Minho,” She turned now to the man in question. “I am so sorry to have heard what happened. I can assure you I am certain this whole thing is a mistake!” 

 

Minho gave her a thin smile, realizing that this was likely the reason she had agreed to see them. The Duchess thrived on gossip, and she would never pass down a chance to get inside information.

 

“Thank you Duchess,” he replied, trying his best to look genuine. Thankfully, Morwenna jumped in and saved him from having to continue the awkward exchange.

 

“Actually Narcissa, that is the reason we called on you.” Morwenna lowered her voice just a bit, insinuating a secret she was about to share with the other woman. The Duchess turned back to her, curiosity already evident in her eyes. 

 

“You see,” Morwenna continued, “I find myself in the uncomfortable position of needed your help.” 

 

Narcissa tilted her head, feigning confusion. “While I am sympathetic for poor Minho’s situation, I cannot see how I am in any position to help.” 

 

Morwenna smiled, and Minho shivered at how calculating it was. She really was enjoying this. “My dear, do not sell yourself short. You and I both hold considerable power over the salons and reception halls of Geum. Now hear me out.” She stepped closer to Narcissa, wrapping one arm around the woman’s shoulders.

 

“You were present at Felix’s dinner last night, so surely you must have seen how horrid the atmosphere was. Why it’s no wonder Minho left early, with all the unwanted attention he was receiving. Now what I am proposing is that you and I join our efforts together to help draw attention away from him and his family.”

 

Minho heard Narcissa take a breath in, Morwenna’s plan becoming clear to her, and he bit back a smile. The bait was laid.

 

“And what’s more,” Morwenna pushed ahead, not allowing Narcissa time to process her proposition. “If we were to both publicly support Minho, and to denounce the claims against Jisung, I’m sure we could accomplish more than you think.”

 

At this Narcissa gave a short laugh. It was light, airy, but there was a hunger underneath it. Morwenna could see that the Duchess had bought her story and began to lead her towards the door.

 

“Now Narcissa, dearest, let us discuss the finer details elsewhere. I’m sure it would be most awkward for Minho to hear us talk about him in such a way.”

 

“Oh no, Countess, it’s really alright.” Minho sprung out of seat at his cue, but Morwenna waved him back. 

 

“No no, let the ladies discuss on our own.” Narcissa joined in, urging the two men to enjoy their tea while they stepped out.

 

As the door closed behind them, Minho and Felix shot up. They took care to be silent in their search, hastily turning over statues on display and digging through drawers. It was difficult to search as fast as they had to while ensuring the room looked untouched. As Felix continued searching through a bookshelf, Minho paused in front of the piano. 

 

He could see Isadora standing beside the Baby Grand. Her hair pinned up with delicate red flowers intertwined, a matching scarlet dress cascading over her shoulders. In hindsight, Minho recognized how eerily fortelling that color was on her. When only days later she would be bathed in the color, this time of her own making. It had been two days before her death, during Narcissa’s dinner reception. Isadora had looked stunning as always. 

 

It surprised Minho to feel a stab of the pain he had felt that night, watching Jisung and Isadora talk quietly by the window. Odd to feel the lingering jealousy when he knew now what the two of them had been. After a while, Isadora had drawn away from Jisung, moving instead to stand beside the piano. Around her shoulders was a billowing shawl, a masterpiece of embroidered roses and silk; perfect for hiding a package within it’s folds. Her fingers had brushed the keys as she leaned over, seeming to admire the workmanship. 

 

Minho made his way around the piano, standing almost exactly where Isadora had nearly a week before. He leaned over, peering into the opening behind the keys. Nothing on the left. As he moved over to the other side, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

 

“Quick, they’re coming!” Felix whispered, his low voice straining to stay quiet. Minho shoved his hand into the right side alcove, feeling around for- there! His fingers closed around a cloth-wrapped box. Not wasting a second, Minho slid the box inside his jacket, dropping it into his inside pocket and rushing back to the couch. The door opened just as he sat back down.

 

Narcissa and Morwenna walked into the room arm in arm, looking to all the world as if they had been friends their whole lives. The two were smiling, sharing a secret look as they made their way back to their company. 

 

They were forced to stay another hour before they were able to escape. And as much as Minho wanted to leave immediately, he knew that would only increase suspicions. So they stayed and made small talk with Narcissa until Minho excused them, begging time to visit his husband. Even Narcissa was unable to deny him that.

The moment they were back in Morwenna’s parlor, Minho pulled out the package. He ripped off the cloth covering, the siblings hovering over his shoulders. He was left holding a carved wooden box, each side identical in every way. At first there was no obvious way to open it, but when he examined it closer he could see that on one side was a flower carving that was raised from the box a little more than the others. Pressing this, he heard a soft ‘click’ and the top swung open. The three peered inside eagerly.

 

Lying on the top of the box was a letter tied shut with a baby blue ribbon. Morwenna snatched it up, hugging it against herself and letting out a sigh of relief. Minho smiled, happy to have brought the woman some peace of mind. Looking back down at the box, he could see two other letters. One of the letters had the name ‘Woojin’ printed in delicate writing on it, while the other was blank. He frowned. As far as he knew the only other person Isadora had stolen a letter from was Emperor Consort Woojin. Who was this second letter for? 

 

Picking it up, Minho turned the letter over in his hand. The letter was nondescript, tied with a thin strip of twine. With cautious fingers Minho tugged at the string, loosening the bindings around the paper. He was well aware of the fact that the document he was holding could very well hold a secret powerful enough to tear apart a country. If the secret kept in this letter was anything similar to the one in Woojin or Morwenna’s letter, it could be dangerous information indeed.

 

His fingers pulled at the edges, opening it just enough to see who it was addressed to. Minho bit back a gasp, suddenly very conscious of the presence of Felix and Morwenna. He scanned the letter as quickly as he could, eyes only glancing at each line as he took in the secrets laid out before him. At the end of the page, he folded it back up, shoving the thing into his jacket before the others could take notice.

 

He turned his attention back to the box’s remaining contents: a smaller box wrapped in soft green silk, and another scrap of paper. The paper was faded, but Minho could make out a series of block letters that seemed to be a sort of code. He felt the room grow colder, the shadows seeming to press in on them from all sides. He recognized that writing. 

 

Minho shoved the thought out of his head, resolving to think about the implications of the coded paper later. He picked up the smaller box, turning it over in his hand before stripping it of its covering. When the silk had been removed, Minho could see that the box was decorated in delicate paintings of flowers and intricate carvings. He heard Felix gasp and turned to see the boy watching him. 

 

“The Flora casket,” Felix’s voice was soft, as if in awe of the masterpiece held between them. Minho had to admit the box was truly a work of art. He passed it to Felix, figuring the boy would appreciate the gesture after longing for the family heirloom for so long.

 

Felix took the box in careful hands, turning it over and over as he marveled at each painted leaf and rosebud. After a moment he paused, his fingers tracing the letters carved into one side.

 

“F.C.L,” he whispered, “Father’s initials. He carved them in when he first inherited the estate.” 

 

Minho let the siblings take their time with the box. They examined each side, before Morwenna liften the carved lid. Inside, the casket was lined with pale green silk. At first the casket seemed empty, but on closer inspection Minho realized that there was a small pocket on the side, into which a folded piece of paper had been tucked away. He drew this out, carefully opening the brittle pages to reveal an odd series of numbers and letters.

 

“A code?” Felix asked from behind him, and Minho nodded in reply. 

 

“I hate to ask this, especially seeing how long you two have waited for this but…” Minho bit his lip, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask.

 

“You think the casket may still hold a clue to the investigation?” Morwenna asked, catching on to Minho’s thoughts. He nodded again.

 

“I promise I will return it as soon as I am sure it holds no more value to the case, but until then please allow me to keep it.”

 

Morwenna smiled, and felix mirrored her grateful expression.

 

“Of course,” she said. “After all that has happened, I can gladly say I trust you with this.”

 

* * *

 

Upon returning to the Heucherella, Minho went immediately to find his younger cousin. He found Jeongin in the boy’s private quarters, curled up in his windowsill with a book. He smiled softly, almost guilty at having to interrupt the boy’s time. But on his arrival, Jeongin leapt out of his seat, eager to hear what news Minho brought. The boy’s smile could brighten up even the bleakest of days.

 

“Jeongin,” he asked, “do you think you could take a look at these two codes for me?” The boy nodded enthusiastically and Minho placed the two pages from the casket on Jeongin’s desk. The boy took a seat and pulled the first sheet towards himself. He glanced it over quickly, muttering ideas under his breath. Next, he turned to the second paper, this one the folded note that had been hidden inside the casket. When he saw the writing, Jeongin paused, his hand hovering over the lines of cipher.

 

“Where did you get this?” He asked, his voice sounded strained, as though afraid that if he spoke too loud it would break.

 

“It was hidden inside the Flora casket, why?” 

 

“This is Aunt Arabella’s writing, and her code.” Jeongin explained, “She used to write notes to Jisung and myself in this code when we were young.”

 

Minho frowned, taking a closer look at the old note. Having married Jisung after his mother’s death, Minho hadn’t been able to recognize the handwriting, but on second glance he could recognize the code as similar to one Jisung sometimes used as well.

 

“If I remember correctly I have to shift every letter by one ahead, while the numbers themselves correspond directly. With that…” Jeongin trailed off, his pen flying across the blank piece of paper he had taken out. After only a few minutes the note was translated. Minho leaned over the table to read.

 

_ My dearest F, _

 

_ How long has it been since I last saw you? The days pass by but I don’t seem to take any notice, the world is dull without you; As though all the flowers have lost their color, and food its taste. When I look back, I realize this is what the world has always been like, in the time before I met you. You added the color to my world when we met, and without you it is unbearable. Strange how not even six months ago I thought I knew everything, and now I realize how little I know of anything. You warned me once that I may have regrets someday, but I know I never will. How could I? When I wasn’t truly alive until I met you. _

 

_ I am yours always, _

_ A _

 

Minho held his breath, reading and re-reading the letter over again.

 

Jeongin frowned, “I’m not sure what she’s talking about, but I’m certain it’s Aunt Arabelle’s handwriting.”

 

The boy continued to muse over the letter, confused as to the message it was sending. Minho, however, was frozen in place. In his mind he saw Felix tracing the carved letters on the side of casket. He couldn’t be sure, but if he was right, this information would change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! As always I'm sorry for updating so late T_T I'm really trying to get things together so i can write more regularly but it's difficult with school ending and me moving cities at the end of the month. I hope you enjoy the chapter! leave me a comment and let me know what you think! We're getting close to the end now~ Let's see if you can guess who the murderer is! I'll give you a hint: It's someone Jisung spends more time with than Minho.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The caged bird sings with a fearful trill   
> Of things unknown but longed for still   
> And his tune is heard on the distant hill   
> For the caged bird sings of freedom."
> 
> I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou

The skies were grey when Minho stepped onto the streets, the weather seeming to mirror his desolate mood. After Jeongin’s revelation of the letter’s coded message, Minho had left almost immediately for Jisung’s cell. For all Minho was used to working alone, in that moment he had been overwhelmed by a sudden need to tell Jisung everything. And he had. It had felt so good to explain everything to the younger boy, and somehow being able to talk things through with Jisung had helped Minho to process everything he had learned through the day. 

 

To say Jisung had been surprised was an understatement. Neither of them really wanted to believe what the letter was implying, but they couldn’t see any other explanation. In the end, Minho had left Jisung with a promise to return as soon as he could. Leaving the prison building behind, Minho made his way through deserted streets, most people having taken shelter from the unrelenting drizzle. 

 

When Minho arrived at Cafe Noir, he made his way to a private room upstairs, away from the bustle of the public space. He had requested the room earlier that day, and as he took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs, Minho felt a rush of deja vu, recalling his and Jisung’s adventure at the Briar Knight barely a week ago. 

 

He didn’t have to wait long before there was a soft knock on the door. He opened it to find Edric, his suit soaked through and hair hanging limp over his eyes. Minho stepped aside for him to enter, signaling the man to take a seat at the table that took up most of the room. He gave the man a few moments to gather himself before he pulled a thin package out from his jacket. Edric’s eyes grew wide when Minho placed it on the table before him.

 

“Is this…”

 

“It is,” Minho confirmed, “I’ll explain when the others have arrived.”

 

Edric looked at Minho in confusion. He seemed as though he was about to say something more before they were interrupted by a second knock at the door. Sparing a glance at Edric, Minho made his way over to the door, greeting the new guests politely as they entered.

 

Once Felix and Morwenna had taken seats at the table, Minho took his place once again. He noticed as he settled himself, that Edric had already tucked Woojin’s letter away before the new arrivals had gotten a chance to see it. He smiled, if only Edric knew how similar he and Morwenna were in this moment.

 

Looking around, Minho cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention to him. For a moment he appraised each of their faces. He trusted them, by now he was sure of that, but he was still hesitant to tell them the entire truth. Having lived a life where half-truths were the only way to survive, Minho found himself having to learn to trust others all over again. Truthfully, Minho had resigned himself long ago to his fate, accepted the fact that not even his husband would know his full story. This last week had all but shattered his resolve, and now that Jisung knew all he had to offer him, he found it wasn’t as scary as he had always believed. Something about Jisung made Minho want to trust, made him want to accept help. With the thought of his husband, locked unjustly in a cell, Minho found the resolve he needed. 

 

“I’m sure you are all familiar with each other, so I’ll skip introductions. What you should know, however, is that everyone here is more connected than you may believe.” He took in how Morwenna and Edric eyed each other suspiciously, though Felix at least seemed to understand what was happening.

 

“I believe I have discovered not only why Isadora was collecting information from everyone here, but also what she was planning to do with it.” With this, all attention was on Minho. No one said anything though, so Minho took that as an invitation to explain what he meant.

 

“Narcissa was correct when she said Isadora was faking her identity, though she hadn’t been able to figure out why.” That night at the masquerade seemed so long ago now. It was the same night, Minho recalled, that they had met Edric.

 

“Isadora impersonated the deceased daughter of a minor Agerattian prince. She did so because her birth identity was not something she could show off, and without an alternative she was, for all purposes, invisible. Of course she could never have done all this without help. The Seo family was instrumental to Isadora’s disguise, having taken her in as a child and trained her as their agent.” Minho saw the surprise on Felix’s face, something close to betrayal. It was no secret that there were no secrets between Felix and Changbin, though Minho couldn’t be sure if that was a one-sided belief on Felix’s part.

 

“They did all this as a favor for a friend. A favor for Jisung’s family and, in particular, for his mother.”

 

Minho summarized as briefly as he could the circumstances surrounding Isadora’s birth, and the subsequent life she led; the secrecy, the frequently changing names, the revolving doors of boarding schools across the continent. He saw sympathy in Morwenna’s face and knew she was thinking of her own little girl, of the life that lay before her. He explained too, how Jisung and Isadora came to be friends, and the relationship they had built over the years. When he seemed finished with his story, Edric raised his hand, squinting with marked interest at Minho.

 

“This is all very interesting but, why are you telling us?” Minho smiled and leaned forward, placing his hands firmly on the table as he met Edric’s eyes.

 

“Because,” he spoke slowly, “I believe that isadora discovered who her father was. And she was planning to use the papers she gathered to claim her heritage.”

 

There was a sharp inhale from beside him, and Minho turned to see Morwenna with a hand over her mouth. Felix looked at her in confusion, but understanding seemed to dawn on him as he followed his sisters gaze down to the table. Minho watched as Felix studied the Flora casket, a mixture of denial and recognition making ripples across his face.

 

“Are you implying that Isadora was our sister?”

 

His voice was low, almost as if he was afraid to speak the idea out loud. Minho nodded at the siblings, pulling out more papers from his jacket as he spoke.

 

“One of the coded letters we found in the casket was written by Jisung’s mother. Jeongin recognized both the cipher and the handwriting as hers and was able to decode it. This is what it said.”

 

The paper that Minho set in front of them was simple enough to interpret, so he let the pair read it over on their own. The initials exchanged between the past lovers were impossible to refute, not with the casket bearing identical carved letters right in front of them. 

 

“As awful as it sounds,” Morwenna sighed, “I’m not all that surprised. It was no secret how Father treated our mother, though it angers me that he would be this careless.” Morwenna paused, seeming to collect herself before she continued.

 

“It must have been torture for her to watch us, Felix and I. Seeing the family and fortune she had every right to, but being unable to claim it.”

 

Minho nodded in understanding. “That’s most likely why she had collected all this information, and why she had summoned Emperor Chan, Albion, Jisung, and myself there that night. Jisung was summoned first, and I believe Isadora had been intending to explain her plan to him beforehand. Then when the rest of us arrived, she would threaten Albion and the Emperor with the information she had gathered, Jisung would be blackmailed with my presence directly.” Here Minho faltered, unsure as to whether he should tell them about the other papers he had found in the casket. He had kept them hidden from Felix and Morwenna when they first opened the box, and he stood by that decision now. Minho pushed on, the remaining papers in his coat pocket feeling heavier than before.

 

“Minho,” Morwenna interjected, “I needn’t point it out to you, but this new information gives both Felix and myself a motive for Isadora’s murder. Me more so, seeing as it is public knowledge I considered her my rival, and we had argued not days before her death.” The Countess waved Felix away when the boy protested her claim, arguing that she would never have done such a thing.

 

“Truthfully, I’m not sure what I would have done if I had known.” Morwenna paused a moment, stealing a look at her brother. “Changbin too, would have been furious if he had known what Isadora had been planning. It could have brought a lot of trouble for his family if word had gotten out about what they did. Not to mention how Isadora’s reveal would have affected you.”

 

“Me?” Felix seemed genuinely surprised as he looked at his sister. “Why would that upset him?” Morwenna snorted, shaking her head.

 

“Because Felix, that man is ridiculously protective of you. Honestly you’re probably the only person Changbin would protect for reasons other than politics and personal gain.”

 

Minho turned from the pair, letting Felix blush and stutter in peace as he turned his attention back to Edric, who had been silently listening this whole time. The man looked thoughtful as he watched the siblings bicker.

 

“And what of Emperor Chan?” Minho asked him, drawing his attention back. “Would he have accepted Isadora’s demands?”

 

Edric hesitated. “Most likely… yes. Chan is a ruthless leader, but he has a major soft spot for his husband. If it’s for Woojin I’m sure he would do anything.” Minho nodded, he had expected as much.

 

Morwenna tapped on the table, calling everyone's attention back to her. She coughed into her hand, looking a little sheepish under their scrutiny.

 

“I’m not sure what you suspect of me now, but the fact of the matter is that Jisung and I are step-siblings… of a sort. And I think I may be able to pull some favors to get him out of prison.”

 

* * *

 

Minho followed the Prime Minister of Geum as they made their way through the cold hallways of the city's central prison building, Morwenna trailing behind. The two of them had just finished explaining to Albion everything, or almost everything, they knew regarding Isadora’s blackmail plot, and how Jisung was involved. It had taken the pair a long time to convince the man. In the end Minho was certain it had been more so the fact that Jisung had played a part in recovering Morwenna’s precious letter than anything he had presented logically to Albion that had helped the man make up his mind. Not that Minho cared, of course. They were on their way to free his husband.

 

Minho hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until the key turned in its place, Albion giving the door a tug and letting it swing open with a horrible screech. The metal clanked against stone, and Albion stepped inside the dingy cell, Minho right at his heels. When his eyes met Jisung’s, confused at the sudden intrusion, Minho felt a rush of emotions. He felt like he could cry, but he couldn’t decide if it was from relief at seeing his husband again, or anguish for how sunken his cheeks looked after only a day in this sunless hole.

 

Jisung tore his eyes away from Minho, meeting Albion’s frustrated gaze with his own. For a long moment, no one spoke.

 

“Jisung,” The Prime Minister huffed.

 

“Albion.”

 

“Isadora was your sister.” Jisung’s eyebrows shot up at Albion’s statement. It hadn’t been a question.

 

“She was.” Jisung glanced at Minho, searching for answers in his husband’s guarded expression.

 

“And she was planning to blackmail you, the Emperor, and myself.” 

 

“So it seems,” Jisung’s voice was tight. “Though I’m still finding it hard to believe she’d turn on me.”

 

Albion gave a long sigh, waving a dismissive hand in Jisung’s direction. “It now appears you never received the blackmail letter Isadora had written, and the rest of the evidence against you is circumstantial. As it stands, I have no further cause to keep you here until more substantive evidence can be found.” Albion’s shoulder’s were tense, and Minho could tell how much it pained the man to admit he had been wrong.

 

“You are to be released,” Albion said with an air of finality, “however you must remain in Geum until the case has been resolved.”

 

Relief washed across Jisung’s features, erasing the traces of sleepless nights that had lingered in the shadows under his eyes.

 

“I cannot thank you enough.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” Albion waved off his gratitude, “Your husband and Morwenna make a persuasive pair.”

 

“Besides,” he continued, “I must thank you for tipping us off as to the plot surrounding Darius. We’ll be sure to have extra security at the Opera on the night mentioned.”

 

With that Albion spun on his heel, stalking out of the cell and leaving the door open behind him.

 

Jisung watched Albion’s retreating figure disappear down the hall, not entirely certain what had just happened and not yet convinced that he could trust his own senses. But the moment his eyes met Minho’s, the elder’s wet and brimming with unspoken endearments, Jisung’s breathe caught in his throat. 

 

They moved at the same time, each racing to meet the other first. For the second time in as many days, Jisung found himself crashing into the other’s arms. A tangle of fingers in hair, arms knotted around each other. Minho held him close, and Jisung could feel his husband’s arms shaking with the effort to pull him impossibly closer. Jisung too, clung to Minho as though afraid the man would disappear if he faltered for even a second.

 

It was pathetic, Jisung thought, how they were acting. It’s not as though they had been separated for years, and they had never been in danger of not being able to see each other for any length of time. Why then, did it feel like Jisung was finally embracing his husband for the first time in years? Really, truly embracing him. 

 

It was like coming home when he never even realized he had left. When they finally pulled apart, Jisung couldn’t help but feel it was too soon.

 

There was a cough near the cell door, and Jisung turned to find Morwenna still standing there, sheepish smile on her face. Jisung was quick to thank her, a stream of grateful words falling from his lips in what was certainly an incoherent mess. Morwenna didn’t seem to mind, and took his hand instead.

 

“It appears we share a sister Jisung, it’s only fair I did something to help. And… I feel I must apologize to you as well.” Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but Morwenna pushed ahead.

 

“I can’t be sure how I would have handled the situation, so preoccupied was I with my own troubles. Not to mention my quick temper. I suppose we shall never know how this would have played out had Isadora been able to reveal things on her own time, but I still feel ashamed of the way I know I could very well have treated her.” Morwenna was looking at Jisung earnestly, as if daring him to refuse her apology. Jisung surprised her by pulling away, giving a soft chuckle as he looked back to her.

 

“I must thank you for your honesty, but as you said, that situation shall never come. Let’s not dwell on ‘what ifs’.” He smiled wider at the Countess, and wider still at the rush of breath she let out.

 

“You’re a kind man Jisung. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d known Isadora was my sister, but I wish I had had the chance to try.”

 

* * *

 

Once again, Minho walked through the crowded cafe and up the stairs to the private room. This time, however, his husband’s arm was linked loosely with his own. Twin smiles on their faces, despite the grim summonings they had received from edric not an hour earlier.

 

Edric wasted no time in showing them the slip of paper that had been pressed into his hand by a footman when he had arrived back at the Agerattian counsel's lodgings. It was plane, nondescript, but the words on it spoke volumes. 

 

_ If you wish to know more about Darius’ plans, be in the library at the dance tonight at 11:00. Be sure to get there in time to take cover. Trust no one. _

 

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Jisung asked, glancing up to see Minho squinting down at the print. He was chewing on his lip and Jisung wondered if this was a nervous habit. He had never really realized how much he didn’t know about the man he had married.

 

“It’s possible,” Minho replied, “But it’s the only lead we have right now. I think it would be in our best interest to follow it through.”

 

“But you’ll be careful right?” Minho looked up, shocked at the urgency in Jisung’s voice. He met the younger boy’s eyes and nodded, hoping his eyes could convey what he couldn’t say out loud.

 

After that decision had been made, preparations went quickly, and before the hour had passed the friends went their separate ways. Jisung and Minho made their way back to the Heucherella leisurely. A part of Jisung wanted to rush back to their apartment and change out of the clothes he was still in from the prison. The other part wanted to linger here in the streets with Minho, to cling to his husband’s arm and enjoy the sights of the city he seemed to only now be appreciating. Looking up at his husband as they walked, Jisung had to wonder how he had ever managed to muddle his way through life without him, and he said as much too.

 

“You’re quite capable on your own,” Minho replied, mirth evident in his tone. “I am confident you would have managed just fine.”

 

“No,” Jisung protested, and he held a serious expression when he met Minho’s eyes. “I had simply been too blind to see how lost I was before I met you.”

 

The weight that Jisung placed on those words caught Minho off guard. There was an extended moment of silence, before Minho giggled. High pitched and unguarded. He gave Jisung a light shove, turning away to hide the blush rising up his cheeks.

 

“What are you even talking about.”

 

They walked in comfortable silence after that, leaning into each other as if they could erase the distance between them through all the years. Before they knew it they were rounding the corner and the Heucherella stood before them.

 

Suddenly Minho slowed down, tugging Jisung back with him and turning the younger gently so they were facing each other.

 

“Jisung, there was another letter in the casket. Other than Woojin’s and Morwenna’s I mean.” Minho frowned, his hands gripping Jisung’s shoulders a little too tightly.

 

“You mean she was blackmailing someone else?” Jisung asked, “No one else seems to have been looking for the papers.” Minho nodded. He was biting his lip again, Jisung noticed.

 

“That’s why I decided to open the letter myself, to see who it was addressed to.” Minho held his breath for a second and looked as though he was trying to swallow something too big to fit down his throat.

 

“It wasn’t addressed to anyone, and it seemed to be written in Isadora’s own hand. But Jisung, there were things in that letter about the Wistarian delegation that even I hadn’t known. Plans, strategies, dangerous secrets. And what’s more, in the letter Isadora had threatened to give this information to Emperor Chan.” Jisung felt as though he had been doused in ice water, and suddenly he was shivering as though he was still back in that damp cell.

 

“Jisung I think that Isadora had been planning to give you this letter that night,” Minho continued, hardly allowing himself to breath as he rambled on. “Either that or... or”

 

“Or someone else had received and invitation that night as well,” Jisung finished. Someone else, someone who wasn’t him, or Chan, or Albion, or Minho. 

 

“No one else arrived after Albion, or else they would have been seen and taken in by the guards who were investigating the scene.” Minho reasoned, “Which means that, whoever this fifth guest had been, they must have arrived before any of us. It’s possible then, that they could have been the one who killed Isadora.”

 

Jisung looked up, something akin to fear in his eyes. “Based on the letter, it’s almost certain that this person is Wistarian, you don’t think Hyunjin…”

 

“No,” Minho cut him off, “It’s possible of course, but I don’t think it was Hyunjin. When I visited Isadora’s dressmaker she let slip that Isadora had been frequently meeting with a Wistarian man, but she described him and blond. It couldn’t have been Hyunjin.”

 

Jisung sighed, he really didn’t need anymore reason to be suspicious of his friend. He wanted to trust Hyunjin, but that’s what made it so painful when he always seemed to be in the middle of everything going on.

 

“Let’s just go home for now.”

 

* * *

 

Jisung barely made it two steps into his room before he was nearly knocked over by Jeongin. The younger boy threw himself onto his cousin, wrapping his thin arms around Jisung’s torso and burying his face into the elder’s chest. Jisung returned the boys hug and pretended he didn’t hear the sniffles that were muffled by layers of cloth.

 

After a minute, Jeongin pulled away, turning quickly so the others wouldn’t see him scrubbing at his face. He glanced quickly at Minho before making his way to the table in the corner of the room.

 

“I uncoded that other paper you gave me.” If his voice trembled a bit, no one mentioned it. “It was way too complicated and took pages of tables, but its done. Though I have no idea what it’s talking about.” He pushed the paper towards Minho before fiddling with the pen that had been leaking ink onto the hardwood.

 

_ A map of the route is attached. My partner will go with you to ensure everything goes according to plan. You will deliver the items to him after the operation, and we’ll go our separate ways.  _

 

The map included showed a rough sketch of northern Perovskia. It was messy and inaccurate, but Minho knew with absolute certainty where the map had been leading to. The map had names on coordinates labeling key points on the sketch, and Minho drew in a sharp breath as he recognized the penmanship. Beside him, Jisung gasped.

 

“I think I know who sent this,” Minho said. His voice was shaking and Jisung reached out a hand, gripping Minho’s fingers reassuringly in his own. “He’ll be at the ball tonight. It seems I have more work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This chapters out a bit sooner than the last! I'm still struggling to balance a full time workload on top of my studies so it looks like this will be a more realistic time frame for updating for me but I'll still try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible! We're getting close to the end now!! Any thoughts or theories on these new revelations?
> 
> Side note: Please don't mind any errors they may be I edited this at 5am and was half asleep


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Life is so complete that even when we are knocked on our backs, we have the best view of the stars.”   
> ― Laura Teresa Marquez

The carriage pulled up in front of the sprawling estate, and a footman came forward to open the doors. Jisung followed the other's out, before turning back to offer his hand to Minho. Their hands remained clasped, even when Minho's feet were safely on the ground, and they turned together to walk up the steps.

Inside, the room was buzzing with gossip, and with Jisung and Minho's arrival it only got louder. Jisung suddenly understood what his husband had meant when Minho had warned him as they were getting ready. Since his imprisonment, Jisung had been the talk of the town, and even more so since his release. Not used to being the centre of attention, jisung looked around nervously. He watched as Casimir made his way to the refreshments table, the young man's golden hair complimenting his navy suit and his face calm. Jisung was thankful for the unbothered air his junior delegate carried around him, feeling calmer knowing he still had the support of his friends.

He watched as the blue coat disappeared into the crowd of people before turning back to Minho. The two of them were dressed in a matching deep red. It suited them, Jisung thought. Red was the color of passion and love, but also of red; of the blood pumping in their delicate veins, of a burning flame. It matched their past well.

"I feel as though I've stepped into a play." Jisung turned to see Hyunjin and Seungmin approaching them, the pair arm in arm. There was an easy smile on his friend's face as he addressed them. "I don’t think I’ve had this many eyes on me since I dropped the ceremonial scepter on my first day in court.” Jisung snickered, remembering the day himself, as well as the stricken look on Hyunjin's face long after court had ended that day. A moment later, Changbin and Felix arrived as well, Felix with a smile that threatened to split his face and Changbin with an expression that managed to simultaneously appear annoyed and relieved.

"I knew you wouldn't remain in prison long." Changbin said with a short nod. Jisung snorted.

"I'd thank you for your faith if I didn’t know that's not what you meant.”

Changbin laughed, the sound rough and abrupt. “Minho is quite something," he said, "even I’d be afraid of crossing him.” Jisung smiled proudly at that, giving his husband's fingers a quick squeeze where they were still pressed between his own.

The group of friends were interrupted by the announcement that dinner was served and they made their ways to the long tables set up in the next room. Supper was an exhausting affair, with everyone around them wanting to speak with Jisung or hear his take on the whole prison affair. None of them asked outright, but Jisung had been active in society since he was a boy and he knew well how to read those around him.

After what had felt like hours of dodging questions and making pained small talk with people he really didn't care about. Supper was finally cleared away and the guests were directed to return to the ballroom for the first dance of the night. As they made their way to the door, Jisung met Edric's eyes from across the room. The older man glanced at the clock high on the wall and Jisung followed Edric's gaze. It was twenty minutes to 11. Jisung quietly got Minho's attention, whispering a few words into his husband's ear before pulling away.

The original plan had been for Minho to join Edric in spying on the secret meeting, but with the reveal of the final letters’ content, they had decided that Jisung would take Minho's place while the elder addressed the other mission for the evening.

Together, Jisung and Edric made their way to the side of the room that lead to the library. They slipped out one at a time, a few minutes apart so as to avoid suspicion. Once in the library, they hid themselves behind the thick wall hanging that obscured an area behind a large sofa. Here they waited with bated breaths as the clock hands ticked closer to the hour.

Just as the clock struck 11, the door opened. They heard footsteps make their way through the room before stopping in front of the fireplace, a little to the right of where Jisung was concealed. Again, they waited. A few minutes later, the door opened again. Jisung held his breath as the library door swung shut behind the new arrival.

"You're late." Jisung heard the man closer to him say, he sounded nervous. There was laughter, and then a second voice.

“It wouldn’t do to have us both disappear from the ballroom at the same time.” This voice was unmistakably Darius', Jisung would recognize his arrogant tone anywhere. The first voice had sounded familiar, but Jisung couldn't yet be sure.

“This isn’t a game.” The first voice said, his words tense, as though he were grinding his teeth together while speaking.

“My Lord, everything in Geum is a game.” Jisung bit his lip, even without being able to see the man he knew there was an obnoxious smirk on Darius' face.

“They’ve released Han Jisung from Prison.”

“So I’ve heard, a surprising move if I may say so," Darius sounded annoyed at having been cut off.

“They’ll start investigating again, which makes it even more urgent that we find the papers.” Jisung frowned, he definitely recognized the man's voice from somewhere. It has a light accent, and a manner of speaking that made Jisung think that they hadn't met in the meeting rooms.

“Minho hasn’t been able to find them either.” Darius replied. He had tried to sound nonchalant, but he had never been good at concealing his emotions. “We could just follow him and bash him over the head when he does.” Jisung flinched at the idea, his fingernails dug painfully into his palms.

“If we could recover the papers Isadora took, would it change anything?” Jisung frowned, there was something about the man's casual tone that tugged at his memory. Jisung recalled a shabby flat, and artwork that looked out of place in the humble lodgings. Suddenly, he remembered where he knew the voice from. He was absolutely certain that the second man in the room was Galenus, Isadora's former lover who had provided her with the stolen art she had been selling. But how was this man connected to Darius? As far as Jisung had been able to tell Galenus was a simple foot soldier, despite having come from a well off family.

“No, we proceed with the plan one way or another. You’re not getting cold feet are you?” Darius had continued to speak during Jisung's revelation, and he forced himself to focus again on what they were saying.

“The risks-”

“The risks are far greater if we don’t act.”

“Greater than treason?” Galenus' voice held a panicked edge to it, and Jisung frowned at the implication of the man's words.

“There are worse things than treason,” Darius replied.

“If we’re caught-” He was cut off again by Darius' commanding tones.

“We have no choice. He’s become too much of a liability, and his influence over the emperor is too great.” The words held an air of finality, and Jisung shivered. Having spent over a year debating with this same man over meeting tables and in board rooms, Jisung could easily picture the expression Darius must have had on his face right then.

After the initial conversation, the men didn't seem to have much to say. From what Jisung could hear, their plan had already been completed, and all that was left now was confirming with each other that their parts had been done. Jisung recalled the note Minho had pick pocketed from Darius earlier that week. Whatever was planned to happen at the masquerade at the end of the month, Galenus had been clear that it was treason.

The men left shortly after, Jisung and Edric waiting a few minutes more before coming out from their hiding place. As they stepped into the firelight, Jisung saw how pale his companion's face had become.

"Did you understand anything they were saying?" Jisung asked, hoping that someone from the same country as the two conspirators would be able to shed some light on the situation. Edric nodded, swallowing once before answering.

"Darius is planning to assassinate Woojin."

 

* * *

 

Minho studied Ulric from across the little table at the back of the salon. The Colonel's face was red with one too many glasses of wine, his eyes glittered with his ever present confidence. Minho shuddered, remembering that this face had once fascinated him to no end.

“So, we find ourselves again in the same positions as when you called on me.” Ulric's words were slurred at the edges, but Minho wasn't fooled. The man could hold his liquor better than he liked to let people believe.

“Not exactly," he chose his words carefully, painfully aware that there were others in the room and hoping that the public atmosphere would prevent Ulric from making a scene. "More information has come to light. I know you saw me enter the Viola palace alone that night, I know you saw the letter Isadora wrote for Jisung, and Jisung knows of my past connection with you.”

Minho took pleasure in the momentary flash of surprise on Ulric's face. “You told him?”

“You left me very few options”

Ulric huffed and crossed his arms, “You went to great lengths to get him out of prison, it appears your marriage is less bloodless than i originally thought.”

“My marriage is no concern of yours,” Minho ground his teeth, trying to steer the conversation back on course.

“Your happiness is always of my concern darling.”

Minho spat out a laugh, “A little late for that Ulric.” He grew serious again, determined to continue with his mission. “I know why Isadora was blackmailing you.”

Ulric's brow rose in feigned surprise, “Really? Then you know more than I do.”

“To get what she wanted, Isadora needed the support of the key players at the congress." Minho spoke slowly, as though addressing a child. He certainly felt as though he was. "She had a way to win Albion and Chan’s support, but Randulphus was more of a challenge. She thought to persuade Jisung to intercede on her behalf, but although Randulphus values Jisung’s wit and abilities in the courtroom, my husband hold no real power over the head of the Wistarian delegate. So she needed a backup, and who better than a man who is both a war hero, and from a powerful family in Wistarian politics."

Ulric smiled, “You flatter me, but Isadora and I never had the sort of relationship that would allow her any type on influence over me.”

“It wasn’t influence she held over you," Minho countered, "it was knowledge. Isadora knew what you did in Perovskia”

For the first time since they had sat down, fear flashed in Ulric’s eyes. In a moment, it was gone, replaced by a cold mask. “You intrigue me," he said, "Do enlighten me about these mysterious actions of mine.” He had Ulric's full attention now and Minho smiled, happy to oblige.

“In the summer of 1636, Isadora and Jisung were stationed together in Perovskia." He began, ignoring the look on Ulric's face at the implication of Jisung and Isadora having been together at the time. "The Agerattians had intercepted word of a shipment of gold from Fargesia to the front lines. Jisung and Isadora fed the Agerattians misinformation about the route the gold was travelling, information that lead to a village being destroyed.” Minho controlled his voice, refusing to let Ulric see his vulnerability. “However, in the end the gold fell into the hands of bandits and never reached the Wistarian troops. Of course you surely remember this, as you yourself were also stationed in the area.”

Ulric hid his unease well, but Minho had known the man for many years, and he could see the tightness in his jaw. “A lot was going on then but I think I recall, the general was hard pressed to pay the men's wages.”

Minho nodded in agreement. “And you yourself were pressed for funds at the time," he reasoned, keeping his face impassive as he continued, "but the lack of wages was more than compensated for by the gold that came into your possession.”

Ulric pushed himself up, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. The soldier stormed around the table to stand over where Minho still sat. “What are you implying,” he growled. Minho met his anger head on, refusing to let Ulric's temper affect him now as it once did.

“Remember, Ulric, I knew you then. You borrowed from everyone, you were constantly complaining of how meager of an allowance you were allowed by your brother. I expect that's what lead you to do it.”

“Do what,” In Ulric's voice was a dare: say it, so I may laugh in your face.

Minho let out an exasperated sigh, “Must I spell it out for you? The gold that was intended for the Wistarian army was stolen by you, aside from the percentage you had to pay to the bandits you hired to do your dirty work.”

“You can’t possibly prove-”

“Isadora had a coded letter and a map you sent you your lacky’s." Minho pushed on, knowing that if he let Ulric speak even a word his confidence would falter. "Jisung and I found it with her other blackmail items. The coordinates of the map point to the exact location Jisung says the bandits attack took place, and despite the block capitals I recognized your hand, I definitely recognized the seal. Risky to use it, but i suppose you had to have some way of proving that the instructions actually came from you, you probably counted on the code being too difficult to break in the event it fell into the wrong hands.”

“None of this proves-”

“Even a war hero from one of Wistaria’s best families can’t get away with treason Ulric, Isadora had you in a precarious position. Who was the partner you employed as liaison with the bandits by the way?” Minho fought to keep his tone neutral, as though they were discussing their preference of tea.

“You don’t-”

“Isadora must have mentioned she knew something in the letter she sent that got you to come to Geum early. I know she arranged to meet you at her dressmakers. How much did she tell you then?”

“She didn't-”

“I don't think she would have told you everything," Minho interrupted again. He found he was enjoying the increasing frustration on Ulric's face. "She was waiting to pounce on Albion and the emperor. I think she just said she required your assistance. You accused Isadora of blackmailing you, don't deny it, the dressmaker's daughter heard you. But then you thought of all you had to lose.”

“I'm not-”

“What else do you call stealing the army’s pay. If the truth came out, at best you would lose your career and reputation, at worst your life." Minho recalled the months that this man had made his life a living hell. He was enjoying having the upper hand for once. "So you decided the wisest course of action would be to compromise with Isadora, Luna Celeste said you left the shop on better terms. Isadora must have asked you to call on her two nights later so she could explain everything. You were hoping that whatever she was going to ask you was something you could deliver on, at least well enough to convince her to keep your secret."

“You can’t-”

“Of course that was before you knew what she wanted you to do. When she told you, you may have decided the only way out was to get rid of Isadora herself."

“Damn it Minho, she was dead when I got there.”

For the first time, Minho paused, examining Ulric's face carefully for any signs he may be lying. “I see.”

Ulric had had enough. He grabbed Minho’s wrist, gripping it painfully. His nails dug into soft skin, but Minho didn’t flinch. “You always were too clever for your own good. So yes, maybe you know everything. When I entered that room the smell was enough to choke me, there was blood everywhere.” Ulric's breath was hot on Minho’s face, but he made no effort to pull away.

“You went through her desk,” Minho pointed out, looking for anything in Ulric's eyes that might give him away.

“She was already dead," his voice was like acid trickling down Minho's neck. It brought back memories he had thought were buried deep under the weight of years. He couldn't afford to get sucked in now. "I couldn't risk leaving the papers she had on me there for someone else to find. But the damned things weren't there.”

“And then you left?” Minho was fighting now, fighting his own mind; the old panic that used to be so familiar. But still he kept his face void of emotion, his voice cold.

“I went down the stairs, but I heard a door open and hid in the stairwell.”

“Jisung,”

Ulric nodded, “After he had gone up the stairs I slipped out.”

“But you didn’t leave right away,” Minho whispered.

“I was at the corner when I heard footsteps. I turned and saw-”

“Me.”

Ulric's gaze burned into his own, “yes.”

Minho jerked his hand free of the man's grasp. Red marks bloomed around his wrists, but it wasn't the first time Ulric had left bruises on him. “It’s a good story Ulric, but it doesn’t prove you didn’t kill her.”

 

* * *

 

“And Edric thinks they’re planning to assassinate Emperor consort Woojin?” Minho asked as he and Jisung sat in their carriage. For once they were alone on their way to the opera. Hyunjin and Seungmin, still working on mending their relationship, had chosen to have super in town alone, electing to make their own way to the opera afterwards. The others had either decided to sit the night out, or chose to stay behind and continue working.

“According to Edric," Jisung explained, "Darius is a crony of Emperor Chan’s cousin, who had been loyal to the previous emperor. If Darius had learned that Woojin’s letters had gone missing and had guessed the contents-”

“He might have decided he had become too much of a liability.”

Jisung nodded, “And if he could blame it on the representatives of another country, he could push the emperor towards the path of war.”

“What do we do now?”

Jisung bit his lip, he had been hoping Minho would have had more ideas than him. “The other man was Galenus, I think he’ll be easier to break than Darius. If we can find him tonight we'll see if we can get him to talk.”

Minho agreed that this would be the best course of action. By now they had arrived at the opera and the two made their way into the overfilled entrance hall. Wandering through the rooms, they eventually spotted Hyunjin and Seungmin talking with Felix and Morwenna near a grand piano that took up one corner of the salon off of the main entrance hall. They had nearly made it across the room when an urgent whisper called out Minho’s name and he found himself pulled aside. Jisung glanced back when their hands separated, quickly following his husband to where he now stood at Galenus' side.

“Galenus, we were hoping to speak with you sometime.” Minho began, but he was cut off when Galenus shook his head.

“No time for explanations,” his voice was frantic, his gaze that of a soldier caught in a snipers sight. “I need your help. He has to be stopped.”

“He?” Jisung asked.

“Darius. For God’s sake, don't pretend you weren’t listening from behind the curtains last night.” The man's eyes were wide in both exasperation and fear.

“What in-”

“He’s moved up the attack. It’s to happen today, we need to stop him.”

“You were willing enough to help him last night,” Jisung replied, still not entirely trusting of the soldier.

“It was never supposed to go this far!”

Minho studied the man's eyes, “you were the one sending us notes. Why?”

“Later,” Galenus pleaded, "I promise I'll explain once this is over."

Minho nodded, “When’s the attack set for?”

“The first half of the opera.”

“How?”

“Originally it was to be a sniper. Now- God knows what else Darius has changed along with the date.” There were around five thousand people at the opera house that night. Minho bit his lip as he glanced at Jisung, there was no way the three of them could search the whole Opera house in time.

There was a sound behind Minho, and he turned to see that Hyunjin and the others had noticed the tense conversation taking place and had come to stand behind the small group. Minho took in the sight of his friends. Hyunjin had been raised in a military family, and Minho had no doubt he could hold his own in a fight. Morwenna too, was strong and capable. But the others? Seungmin and Felix had never seen the war, and Minho hesitated to put them in danger now. But really, what choice did he have.

“Galenus has just informed us of an impending assassination attempt on Emperor Consort Woojin.” Minho informed them. His best course of action now was to trust in his friends. The other's gasped, Felix brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

“Hyunjin," Minho ordered, "Go to the box opposite the Agerattian one, Jisung find a way backstage. Those are the most likely places a sniper would shoot from. I’ll go immediately to the Agerattian box and get Woojin to safety. If the attack is anything other than a shooter I will be able to stop it there.” Hyunjin and Jisung both nodded, taking off down the hall together towards their destinations.

“I’ll go with you,” Felix said from Minho's side, “They’ll let me into the imperial box.”

Minho nodded. “The rest of you fan out, the greatest threat is a shooter but the attack could come in any form.”

Without wasting another moment, Minho grabbed Felix’s hand, pulling him along as they took the stairs two at a time. He could only pray they weren’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for waiting so long for this T_T I swear this chapter was fully planned out and even partially written two weeks ago... and then life happened. There are only two chapters left now!! This fic will be completed at latest by Christmas =) 
> 
> While I have your attention, I have a few other fic ideas I want to write, so I thought I'd let you guys weigh in. For my next fic do you guys want another skz fic or an nct one? And for each group do you want a magic au or a high school au? Let me know! Otherwise I'll just write whatever I feel like on that day =)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is a moment, a cusp, when the sum of gathered experience is worn down by the details of living. We are never so wise as when we live in this moment.”   
> ― Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air

Minho and Felix must have been quite the sight as they stopped in front of the Agerattian Imperial box, sweat plastering carefully styled hair to their foreheads and their jackets discarded. The guards standing on either side of the door looked on with wide eyes as they recognized the two men in front of them. Between gasps, Felix informed the guards that they had an urgent message for the Emperor. Hesitating, the guards looked as though they were about to refuse. Not waiting for their reply, Minho pushed past them with Felix in tow. 

 

Heads spun to look at the pair as they made it through the antechamber and burst through the curtains of the balcony. In the dim lighting of the theater Minho could make out the look of confusion on Woojin’s face, as well as the slight annoyance on the Emperor’s. Only Edric met Minho’s gaze with one filled with fear and understanding. Gathering his breath, Felix stood up straight and addressed the nobles before of him.

 

“I beg your pardon, but could my friend and I have a moment alone with the royal couple, it is a matter of utmost urgency.” 

 

Emperor Chan frowned at this, clearly annoyed at having been interrupted. “Surely it can wait until after the concert.” His voice was firm, and he began to turn around, a clear sign of dismissal, but the action was halted when Minho spoke up.

 

“We have reason to believe that there will be an attempt on Emperor Consort Woojin’s life this night,” he blurted, ignoring the gasps and exclamations from the other nobles. In a flurry of motion, the men and women in the balcony began pushing at each other, tripping over seats and handbags in their rush to leave.

 

“You bastard!” Edric roared, launching himself over a row of seats to tackle Darius to the ground.

 

* * *

 

Backstage, Jisung moved through the wings on silent feet, making his way to a place where he could see the Agerattian balcony. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he froze, ducking behind a crate. Peeking around his hiding spot, Jisung squinted against the dim lighting, just barely making out the silhouette of a man crouched in the furthest downstage wing. After a moment more, Jisung was able to see the gun in the strangers grip, barrel trained upwards. 

 

As he watched, the man took aim, the click of the safety drowned out by the clarinets tuning. There is a pause, silence filling the auditorium as the musicians settled down, getting into their places for the first bar of music. The song began softly, a single violin yearning for company. Jisung knows what the man is waiting for. Silently, he edged out from behind the crate, getting as close as he dared to the stage with so little noise to hide his movements. A pair of flutes join the violin, and one by one the other instruments catch on. Jisung holds his breath as the music swells. Now.

 

He throws himself forward, knocking into the sniper just as he takes the shot. It goes wide and the bullet buries itself in the plaster near the grand chandelier, the noise hidden by a crescendo as the music reaches its peak.

 

* * *

 

Up in the balcony, Chan stepped between Edric and Darius, pushing the two men apart as he demands an explanation. He looks first to Darius, and while his attention is diverted Edric takes Woojin’s arm.

 

“Please Woojin, go with Minho, it’s not safe for you out here.” As Woojin moved towards Minho, Edric turns again to the Emperor. “And Chan, I promise we will explain everything, but right now I strongly urge you to go with your husband to the antechamber. If you value Woojin’s life then please…” He trailed off, unsure of how to convince his friend to listen to him. To his relief though, Chan nodded, moving to take Woojin’s arm as they both followed Felix and Minho through the curtain.

 

Once in the antechamber, Chan spun to face the others, confusion and something similar to anger, but could very well be fear, washed over his features. For a split second, Minho is reminded of how young Chan is, having taken the throne mere days after his 18th birthday, the man in front of him, though older than Minho himself, was scarcely an adult. 

 

Before Chan can speak, the side door opened and a footman entered, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a towel draped over the other. Chan dismissed the servant with a wave and turned to Edric. The footman, bowing towards Chan’s back, placed the bottle on a table beside where Woojin is standing. 

 

There was a sudden noise, and the footman collapsed forward. From behind him, a wisp of smoke curled up from the barrel of Minho’s concealed pistol. Felix screamed, having been standing beside Minho when the other man fired, and then there is silence. Music filtered softly through the curtains, but everyone was staring at the blood seeping into the cream colored carpet, and the lethal knife clutched in the footman’s stiffening hand.

 

After a few moments, Woojin stepped forward, away from the mess on the floor. “It seems I owe you my life Minho,” his voice wavered and he pauses to take a few deep breaths. In a steadier voice he continued, “would you care to explain what is going on?”

 

Minho glanced over to where Edric had taken Darius’ arm, preventing the man from escaping through the side door he had been sneaking towards. 

 

“We have evidence that Darius hired an assassin to kill Emperor Consort Woojin,” he explained, raising his voice to be heard over the shouts of protest from the man in question himself.

 

“Your highness, how can you believe that man! His own husband murdered Princess Isadora if there is anyone who-” Darius’ protests were cut off by the sound of a door slamming open and Minho whirled around to see Jisung standing in the doorway. Stepping further into the room, Minho could see that his husband had a pistol pressed into the side of another man’s head.

 

“Your Majesties, I caught this man-” Jisung’s voice broke off as he caught sight of the dead footman. Jisung looked up at Minho, his eyes wide, and then over to where Woojin and Chan stood together. Chan gave a small nod, inviting Jisung to continue his thought.

 

“I caught this man taking aim at your box from the wings.” Jisung repeated, walking into the center of the room with the stranger held in front of him. Minho studied the would-be sniper, taking into account the mans simple clothing and the absence of any signas or crests. There was nothing to identify the man’s allegiance. 

 

“You,” Minho addressed the sniper, “do you see your employer here? Speak now and your punishment may be lessened.” Minho doubted Chan would be willing to let the man go easy, but he didn’t need to know that. Still though, the sniper hesitated. Silently, Minho raised an eyebrow and Jisung took the signal to press his gun more firmly against the man’s head. 

 

It seemed that was the motivation he needed, because the sniper swallowed and raised a finger to point at Darius, who scowled at the accusation. 

 

“I have never seen this man before in my life,” he growled, “For all we know Jisung is paying him to say these things!”

 

“Silence,” Chan’s voice was loud and firm, effectively cutting off any further complaints Darius may have had, “I want to hear what else this man has to say.”

 

The sniper coughed, gnawing at his lip before meeting Darius’ eye from across the room. “I kept all of our correspondences, and while Count Darius never put details in his writing, it proves he was in contact with me and his handwriting can surely be recognized.”

 

Somewhere behind him a door slammed open and Minho suppressed a sigh. He turned to face whatever new interruption fate had decided to lay at their feet. 

 

“I apologize for my late arrival your highness.” 

 

_ ‘Bullshit’ _ Minho thought, ‘ _ he’s just too much of a coward to risk his own skin’. _ But he said nothing as Galenus made his way across the room, taking careful steps around the body still prone on the carpet.

 

“Galenus,” Chan’s voice was cold, “do you know anything about what is going on?” Galenus had the audacity to lower his head, looking almost ashamed as he studied the scuffed leather of his boots.

 

“Yes sir,” he answered, “I was Darius’ partner.”

 

“You Bastard!” Darius shouted. He strained against Edric’s hold, looking every bit as if he wanted to kill his former confidant. Chan waved a hand and the guards posted around the room leapt into action, two men grabbing Darius’ arms while a third kept himself between the traitor and the Emperor.

 

“You will be silent Darius, or this will end even worse for you,” Chan ordered. He then turned to fix Galenus with a hard stare. “You claim you and Darius were involved in an assassination plot?”

 

“Yes sir, to assassinate the Emperor Consort.”

 

Chan’s gaze jerked to Woojin. “Why?”

 

“Darius seemed to think he was a threat, I myself was never able to determine exactly why.” Galenus answered, his voice was calculatingly casual, but it was an obvious ruse.

 

“And you went along with it?”

 

For the first time, Galenus seemed to look honestly regretful.

 

“My aim was never to risk the death of anyone, least of all the Emperor Consort. I had been hoping to gather enough proof of Darius’ danger within the Agerattian court to have him at least sent away from the congress.” He explained, keeping his head low. “My Emperor, my apologies but… Darius is too radical. His influence will only lead to war. I thought I had time, but when Darius moved the attack up I was forced to act quickly. I informed Minho and Jisung of the situation as soon as I could.”

 

“You have no proof,” Darius growled. All Galenus could do was shrug in response. He looked utterly defeated.

 

“Darius,” Minho interrupted them, throwing in an accusation of his own. “You were at the Viola palace the night of Isadora’s murder. You had gone there looking for papers you thought Isadora had in her possession.” He paused, studying Darius carefully before he spoke again. “The only thing I can’t seem to decide is whether or not you killed her”

 

“Oh for God’s sake she was dead when I got there!”

 

Darius seemed to be the last person to realize what he had said. 

 

“Edric,” Chan ordered, “You will escort Darius back to the palace. He is to remain in his rooms until further notice. Place a guard outside his door.”

 

“Your majesty-” The color had all but drained from Darius’ face. Minho could see the sheen of perspiration at his hairline.

 

“I have nothing more to say to you at this time Darius. Galenus, I will speak with you in private.”

 

* * *

 

When Galenus showed up at the Heucherella two hours later both Minho and Jisung were beyond surprised. They had felt certain Galenus would end up in irons, and said as much too as they led the man to a shadowy salon off the palace’s main entrance hall. Once they were away from prying eyes, Jisung situated himself in an overstuffed chair, too exhausted by the evening’s events to stay standing despite the tense atmosphere between the three men. He let a small smile slip onto his face when Minho moved to stand beside Jisung, not to subtly placing himself between Galenus and the younger man.

 

In the darkness, the three of them stood in silence, none of them quite knowing how to start the conversation. Eventually, it was Darius who cleared his throat, calling the other’s attention to him.

 

“I am not proud of many of the choices I’ve made, but you must believe that I never thought Darius would change the date of the attack.” 

 

The lamplight flickered between the men, casting shadows on their faces. Shadows that could very well mask hidden intentions, but Minho found he was inclined to believe the man, maybe it was Jisung’s influence. His husband really was too trusting.

 

“You faced what you had done and owned up to it,” Minho sighed. “I can respect that at least. You could have run after tipping us off.”

 

“I couldn’t risk Darius getting away with it, that would have meant everything was for nothing.” Galenus’ mouth was pressed into a thin line as he spoke, as if he wasn’t quite sure of what he had wanted to say; Or how much. Minho narrowed his eyes at the former soldier before him.

 

“What game are you playing at?” He felt Jisung stiffen beside him, and a hand was placed on his lower back. He took a deep breath, letting the tension in his shoulders bleed out at the touch of his husband’s fingers, but he kept his gaze level with Galenus’.   
  


“This whole congress is a game,” the man spat, “it’s survival.”

 

Both Minho and Jisung could sense they would get no more out of Galenus, and they bid him goodnight. They showed him to the staff entrance at the back, deeming it safer for him to leave unnoticed given the circumstances. As he stepped into the midnight air, Minho called for him to wait. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, “you’ve told us a great deal. Now all that’s left is to confront your master” Minho didn’t wait to see the surprise on Galenus’ face as he shut the door.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jisung arrived at Changbin’s office alone. They Minho and he had reviewed everything they had learnt in the past few days after Galenus had left them last night, and had discussed what their next course of action should be. Jisung had requested that Minho stay behind for this specific conversation, and had been pleased that his husband had given up easily. Jisung had other reasons as to why he wanted to speak with Changbin alone, and he took Minho’s willingness to let him handle the interaction as a sign of the older’s trust in him. 

 

A low voice called out for Jisung to enter, and he swung open the heavy doors. Changbin sat behind his desk, seemingly unsurprised at Jisung’s sudden visit. For some reason Changbin’s indifferent expression set a fire in Jisung’s veins. He had gone through so much in the past week, and he was so tired.

 

“I should have seen it sooner,” Jisung snarled, “I sometimes forget how ruthless you can be.”

 

Changbin said nothing. As was usually the case between the two, he opted to let Jisung do the talking.

 

“You saw Ageratta as the greatest threat to the stability of the continent.” Jisung continued, not waiting for Changbin’s invitation to seat himself in one of the lounge chairs off to one side.

 

“You disagree?”   
  


“No,” Jisung shook his head,  “maybe I should clarify further. You saw Darius as the most dangerous influence on the Emperor, pushing him toward extreme views and violent confrontation.”

 

“I suspect there are many who would agree with your analysis,” Changbin’s voice remained impassive, but Jisung knew his friend could already guess what he was getting at.

 

“But very few of those people would be willing to take action,” Jisung reasoned, leaning forward in his seat to better see Changbin’s reactions.

 

“By encouraging Darius to assassinate the emperor consort?”

 

Jisung scoffed, “By entrapping Darius in a plot that would expose just how dangerous he could be and have him lose the emperor's favor.”

 

Changbin was quiet at this, though his face betrayed no emotion. Jisung had known the man nearly his whole life, and yet he was still unable to tell what Changbin was thinking. Either way, it didn’t appear as though Changbin was going to speak anytime soon, so he pushed on.

 

“You knew Emperor Consort Woojin had papers that held information that Darius would kill to keep hidden. Letters to his brother in which Woojin confided his suspicion that chan had arranged to have his own father assassinated.” Jisung spoke slowly, ensuring that Changbin understood what he was implying. “You had Isadora steal these same letters, and then had a pawn tell Darius about it and suggested to Darius that Woojin had become a dangerous liability. How long has Galenus been under your wing?”

 

Changbin laughed, “You know I love to brag of my ability, but not even my influence is that far reached.” Jisung gave him a look that told Changbin he didn’t believe one word of his claim.

 

“And regardless,” Changbin argued, “you’re suggesting I would risk the Emperor Consort’s life”

 

“Oh no,” Jisung said, “the attack was never meant to succeed. The whole idea was for it to be discovered”

 

“How so?”

 

“By Minho and myself,” Jisung rose from his chair, wandering over to the fireplace before turning and meeting Changbin’s eyes again. “Isadora was to feed us information. We’re outsiders, people who the Emperor would be far more likely to believe than Galenus. It was really quite brilliant. Galenus acted as incendiary with Darius, while also keeping Isadora informed of the plot. Then Isadora fed that information to either myself or Minho. Really, I’m quite flattered you placed such faith in our abilities. However, with Isadora out of the picture, we weren’t fast enough, and Galenus had to begin feeding us information himself.”

 

Jisung smiled, for once he felt certain he had the upper hand against his long-time friend. “But there was one thing you overlooked. Or perhaps you didn’t overlook it, but chose to deal with it at a later date.”

 

“You’ve lost me.” 

 

Jisung didn’t think for a second that Changbin wasn’t following exactly what he was saying, but he explained nonetheless. “Once Isadora saw the content of Woojin’s letters, she realized she could use them to claim her own prize. You had unwittingly given Isadora the means to take a part of Felix’s heritage away from him. Don’t deny it, I know you suspect Felix’s father was also Isadora’s. You couldn’t risk anything happening to your precious Felix, never mind the fact that Isadora couldn’t be trusted now that she had grown financially independent of your family.”

 

“We could dance around this for hours,” Changbin growled, “or you could ask straight out.”

 

“Damn it Changbin, did you order my sister killed?”

 

“To protect myself?” Changbin asked.

 

“And Felix.”

 

Jisung had expected blank denial, or at least a vague enough answer that Jisung would be unable to determine exactly what Changbin had answered to. But as usual, the Fargesian Lord surprised him. 

 

“I won’t deny Isadora had become a liability. I had sent Galenus to deal with her that night.”

 

Jisung choked on what he tried to say next, before he could recover Changbin had pressed on.

 

“His orders were to get her out of Geum.”

 

“Alive?” Jisung stepped away from the fireplace, meeting Changbin halfway across the room as the other man got up from his desk.

 

“For God’s sake Jisung, I’ve known her since I was a baby.”

 

“And that would stop you?” Jisung argued.

 

“It would certainly have made an influence on me.” Changbin sounded exasperated, and he stepped around Jisung to take up the other’s former spot in front of the hearth. 

 

Changbin sighed, “I don’t expect you to believe what I say, but I can perhaps summon someone who can explain better what happened that night.”

 

Without waiting for Jisung’s answer, Changbin took a poker from beside the fireplace and rammed it into the floor four times before placing it back on its spot. Not five minutes later a concealed door beside the bookshelf opened to reveal Galenus.

 

Addressing the new arrival, Changbin cleared his throat. “As expected, Jisung and Minho have worked out most of what happened. I believe it’s time you tell him what you saw the night of Isadora’s murder.”

 

Galenus nodded, turning to give Jisung an almost apologetic smile as he began. “I got there after you did. I could see people in her rooms through the window and asked a servent what had happened. That’s how I learned she had been murdered. I didn’t know at the time, but Darius had had the idea to try to force Isadora to give up the papers that night.”

 

“He said as much yesterday.”

 

“He had arrived shortly after eleven, a full hour before you or your husband had arrived. He told me Isadora was dead when he got there. As he confessed before, he searched the room but couldn’t find the papers.”

 

“And he suspected I had them,” Jisung reasoned.

 

“You were the most likely person Isadora would have given them too, especially after his agents got wind that Albion was trying to buy the papers from you.” 

 

“So he tried to take the papers at gunpoint that night at the opera.”

 

“Yes, he did get them too,” Galenus continued the story, “but once he realized they were fakes he decided you likely didn’t have them and turned his attention elsewhere. Besides that, he was preoccupied with fresh concerns… I’m sorry about Hyunjin.”

 

“Hyunjin?” Jisung was taken aback, “What about him?”

 

“The accident at the jousting,” Galenus explained, “I didn’t know what Darius had planned.”

 

“Darius was behind Hyunjin’s accident, but why?” This was not something Jisung had expected. Although he and Minho had had their suspicions that the accident had been intentional, they had yet to understand how it played into everything else that had happened.

 

“Darius saw Hyunjin leaving Isadora’s rooms the night of the murder and was worried Isadora had told Hyunjin about Woojin’s letters. He even wondered if she had given the letters to him, but was never able to infiltrate the Wistarian delegation’s lodgings to search. In the end, it wasn’t logical to suspect that Isadora would give such important letters to a lover who wasn’t an agent. Darius’ real fear was that Hyunjin may have seen him that night, and he worried that Hyunjin might let it slip because he is so close to you. When he found out that Hyunjin was taking part in the jousting, he jumped at the opportunity to eliminate him from the playing field.”

 

“But-” Jisung’s mind was reeling with the new information, but he could slowly feel everything fitting into place. He let out a long breath before turning to the other two men. “Thank you Galenus, that explains a lot.”

 

* * *

 

Jisung arrived home just before noon and already exhausted despite the day barely being half over. He had been hoping to take a quick nap before the afternoon meeting, but when he stepped into his chambers to find both Minho and Hyunjin waiting for him, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to rest anytime soon. 

 

Apparently, Hyunjin had sought out Minho a little while after Jisung had left for Changbin’s, claiming that he wanted to explain. He had resolutely refused to say anything more until Jisung’s return. The three of them found themselves seated before the fireplace in the privacy of Jisung and Minho’s quarters and Jisung couldn’t help but get deja vous with how often he had found himself in a similar position in the past day. After a brief moment, Hyunjin cleared his throat.

 

“In 1636, a shipment of gold went missing in Perovskia,” he began. “It had been intended as wages for the troops, and caused quite a scene when it was supposedly stolen by bandits.”

 

Minho felt his breath catch in his throat, caught unawares at the topic. From beside him Jisung reached out, gently pulling Minho’s hand away from where it had begun clutching at the armrest. Minho gave the hand a thankful squeeze, comforted by his husband’s presence. Evening out his breathing, Minho focused back on what Hyunjin was saying.

 

“The gold was not stolen by bandits though,” Hyunjin seemed to grow more nervous by the second, but he pushed on. “It was intercepted by men hired by Colonel Ulric, and delivered back to him for his own use.”

 

Minho and Jisung nodded, already having known this much of the story.

 

“He wasn’t working alone though. He had a partner acting as a liaison between him and the bandits. A partner who also benefited from a portion of the stolen gold.” Hyunjin took a deep breath, steeling himself and meeting the couple across from him with a fixed gaze.

 

“That partner was my older brother, who had met Ulric while they were stationed together shortly before this incident.”

 

Jisung gaped at Hyunjin, not entirely sure he had heard correctly. Beside him, Minho’s face was pinched with an old pain. Unconsciously, Jisung edged closer to his husband, rubbing small circles with his thumb on the back of Minho’s hand.

 

“This is one of the main reasons why I no longer associate with my brother,” Hyunjin continued his explainination. “I couldn’t forgive him for what he had done.” Hyunjin’s voice drifted off, his gaze wandering to the flame flickering weakly in the hearth. As though searching for an answer he could no longer hope existed. Suddenly, he shook his head, turning to Minho and Jisung with a new air of urgency.

 

“I swear to you, I truly was buying a painting from Isadora. And that was the extent to which I ever expected our relationship to develop. I had no idea she even knew about what Ulric and my brother had done.” Hyunjin was rambling now, as though he had to say everything in one breath before he lost the conviction to do so. “The night she was killed she summoned me to her chambers. I had assumed it was about the painting but when I arrived she… she blackmailed me. She threatened to expose my brother’s crime and ruin our family’s reputation. It would have destroyed my chances in government. She told me she would give me a day to consider and I left our meeting upset, but I swear I didn’t touch a hair on her head!”

 

Jisung frowned. Hyunjin came from a fairly respectful family, one that was considered ‘old nobility’. A scandal of this magnitude would, as Hyunjin had said, ruin the family’s reputation beyond repair. He could understand why Hyunjin would be so desperate to keep this information silent. There was one thing he still needed to know though.

 

“What did Isadora want you to do in exchange for her secrecy? What did she say of the Wistarian papers she had in her possession?” Minho asked, echoing Jisung’s thoughts. Hyunjin looked at them, obvious confusion on his face.

 

“Papers, what?” He stuttered, “She didn’t mention anything like that. Only that she wanted me to convince Randulphus to hear her out.”

 

* * *

 

Hyunjin had left soon after their conversation, needing to get to the meeting rooms across town early, as Randulphus had asked to meet with him about a series of documents he had been outlining. Jisung and Minho had spent half an hour discussing what they had learnt from Hyunjin and Changbin before Jisung himself left for the meeting.

 

After that, Minho spent the afternoon with Jeongin, enjoying the younger’s company and getting him up to speed with everything that had happened in the recent days. They were so caught up in their conversation that they didn’t realized the delegates had returned until there was a loud knock on the door. Frowning, Minho stood up. He wondered who had arrived to confess their past wrongdoings this time. 

 

When he opened the door, he was met with a fuming Randulphus demanding to speak to Jisung. Minho was confused, but told him that Jisung had not yet returned from the afternoon meeting. He was about to ask why Randulphus hadn’t just spoken with Jisung before they left the meeting hall, but the Lord spun on his heel and stalked away before Minho could open his mouth. He looked helplessly at Hyunjin, who had come up behind his boss and had an uneasy expression on his face.

 

“Jisung really isn’t here?” He asked, and Minho shook his head in confirmation. Hyunjin chewed on his lower lip, reaching out to take Minho’s hand. Minho felt sick.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing but... Jisung never showed up to the meeting.”

 

Minho yanked his hand back from Hyunjin’s grasp, turning halfway into the room. His mind was a mess and he was willing himself not to panic. Not yet. There was probably a very simple reason why Jisung had been delayed. Taking a few deep breaths, Minho forced his hands to stop shaking and turned back to his friend.

 

“You’re right,” he said, “It’s likely nothing. Jisung left at the same time as always. He always stops by the Cafe Noir for a late lunch on his way. I’ll head there now to see if they know anything.” Hyunjin nodded, reaching out to give Minho’s hand one last squeeze before he made his way down the hallway to where his own husband was no doubt waiting.

 

Minho was quick to explain things to Jeongin, who refused to let Minho go to the cafe alone. Together the two of them all but ran to the little side street the cafe was on, sticking to back roads and alleys in order to get there as quick as possible. When they arrived, they took a seat at a table near the back, waiting for a waitress to come and take their order. When the waitress did come, however, she looked nervous, and handed Minho a folded slip of paper before hurrying away. 

 

Minho could barely breath as he opened the folded parchment, dread settling in his stomach before he had even read the words scratched out in blood red ink.

 

_ Be in the library near the Wistarian box during the first act of the Opera tomorrow evening. Come alone. Bring the documents in exchange for your husband’s life. _

 

Minho couldn’t breath, could barely feel Jeongin’s fingers where they dug painfully into his arm. But amid the whirlpool of panic and frantic, half thought-out rescue plans, one thought floated to the surface: Minho recognized that handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooooo everyone. It's only been... a few months.... I'm so sorry I disappeared all of a sudden without telling you guys anything T_T I really didn't plan on being absent for this long. I just... barely had time to write. On a good note I finished university! Now I get to look for jobs yayyyyy T_T I hope everyone's year has started of good. We're almost at the end of this fic! Next chapter will be the last. On one hand I'll be sad to see it end, but I'm also excited to start a new project. If anyone here has read the series 'Ink Prints' I have with my friend Riza, I'll be posting a Changhyunlix fic for that universe soon!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I love hearing your feedback an theories.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first official fic I'll be uploading here. It'll be a chaptered fic that will definitly be more than 10 chapters at this rate... I can't guarantee when I'll update because of school but I'll be aiming for bi-weekly chapters. The fic was inspired by 'Vienna Waltz' by Tracy Grant and the title is a quote from 'Different Seasons' by Stephen King. Chat with me at jeonginsbracessavedmylife.tumblr.com


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